


Imprisoned Realm

by Hermioneluv



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abduction, Alternate Universe - Dark, Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Azkaban, Betrayal, Dark Arts, Dimension Travel, F/M, Family, Gen, Horcruxes, Infidelity, M/M, Mages, Multi, Murder, Order of the Phoenix (Harry Potter), Politics, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Power Play, Rape, Rape Recovery, Serious Injuries, Slavery, Souls, Spies & Secret Agents, Torture, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-24
Updated: 2017-01-18
Packaged: 2018-04-10 22:16:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 29
Words: 141,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4409825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hermioneluv/pseuds/Hermioneluv
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A trap during the Horcrux hunt sends Harry into a dimension where war has raged for 28 years. Harry must not only protect himself from Voldemort, but also from a rising new Dark Lord, the evil Ministry, a war hardened Dumbledore... and himself... Will he find his way back home to finish his own war?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Rendezvous

 

The full moon shone through the strange mist onto a forgotten church. It stood on a hill, overlooking a Muggle town, where twinkling pinpricks of light filtered from house windows, giving the town life and warmth. On the other hand, the church was in darkness. Even though it seemed derelict, except for birds and rats, a Muggle looking up would've discovered a bizarre sight.

An old wizard with a long, white beard sat on the roof of the church, as though this was a completely natural thing to do. As a breeze hit his dangling legs, he sucked on a sweet and heard an owl hooting nearby.

It was certainly odd for any Muggle to witness, let alone a wizard or witch. However, Albus Dumbledore wanted to experience a bird's eye view of the little town beneath.

But, this odd expedition had its purpose.

There was a small pop to his side. A wizard, tall like Dumbledore and just as old, sat beside him. This wizard wore a crimson cloak and embroidered blue robes. He pulled down his hood and sniffed the cold night air. He had a silver goatee with a pointed moustache, and his slick white hair was pulled into a ponytail, while his grey eyes were bright, like the stars hidden by the mist.

"Well hello, Albus," started the wizard with the crimson cloak. "This isn't the place I would've expected to have a rendezvous. But alas…"

"Alas…" replied Dumbledore. He swung his feet a little over the edge, momentarily lost for words.

The tension was thick. This was the first time he had spoken to the wizard since his escape from Nurmengard. "Would you like a sherbet lemon, Gellert?"

"So you still like them after all this time? Yes, I wouldn't mind one myself." The wizard smiled, before helping himself to a sweet from the paper bag.

Just like the old days, thought Dumbledore, and how long ago those days were.

"You've cleaned up well... _very_ well." Until recently, Grindelwald had been a gaunt shell of a man tucked away in prison. "I hope I haven't exhausted you too much, because you seem to be having a lot of _destructive_ adventures lately."

"Ahh yes, though my skills have rusted," Grindelwald chortled, like it had been a fairly simple thing to do, destroying cities. Like his sixty years in prison had been a holiday.

"But you're gaining Voldemort's attention. However, Gellert, don't get too carried away enjoying your freedom. I need your help to end this war."

"Of course, I will help!"

Dumbledore wasn't so sure about this.

"Why have you helped me escape the prison I had built?" He looked at Dumbledore from the corner of his eyes.

Using Grindelwald had been a risk from the very start. There was always a chance that he would gain power without helping the Order of the Phoenix. Dumbledore had to take a chance. He was not the powerful wizard he used to be, and not the power that Voldemort had once feared. He was weary, tired, and he wanted nothing more than for the war that has lasted twenty-eight years to end.

"Well, you wouldn't be of any use to me if you didn't have power."

"Is that all? It seems I'm doing the Greater Good I was put in prison for… and the dirty work you wish to steer clear from."

"Perhaps. However…" He grimly looked at Grindelwald through his half-moon spectacles. "I'm not asking you to terrorise Muggles and Muggleborns!"

"Yes, yes, I know, but Lord Voldemort's followers need to notice that I too, seem to care about the purity of our world and thus get them interested in my little group."

It was a horrible tactic, though Dumbledore had to admit, it was one which would prove fruitful. "You need to stay in England now, that's the only way Voldemort will realise the challenge you pose."

The crimson cloaked wizard spread out his arms, displaying a cheeky smile. "I am here at your service."

"Excellent! Make sure you don't kill Muggles and innocents."

Grindelwald sniffed loudly again, but didn't press further with the details. Instead, Dumbledore knew this wizard was itching to ask him something that had been on his mind since his escape.

"Albus, do you still—?"

"Why are you interested in the Elder Wand again?"

"I've heard that you lost the wand to Voldemort."

"I lost it at my defeat."

Grindelwald's eyes lit up. "Will you explain to me what's happened here and to Hogwarts?"

He sighed. "After my defeat, The Chamber of Secrets opened. I lost over one hundred students that night." The shock of it still froze Dumbledore's heart.

"Is it true that Harry Potter opened the Chamber?"

"It wasn't the boy's doing."

He believed Harry when he had denied it. However, since the boy had murdered his brother and maimed his sister, Dumbledore needed to weigh the evidence. Even though the boy had been imprisoned in Azkaban for months now, a niggling feeling crept into his mind.

He knew there were still missing pieces to the Harry Potter puzzle. He wanted the truth on how his protégé had become so evil and bent, though he knew that part of the boy's downfall, if not, in fact all of it, had been his own fault. Fledgling Mages did have a habit of distorting their souls, if they absorbed the power around them too quickly.

His investigations into the matter had to be put on hold as he dealt with bigger things, and Gellert Grindelwald was one of those bigger things.

"Hogwarts is the Dark Lord's hiding place," Dumbledore said calmly. The bitterness still seeped through every pore in his body.

Grindelwald fiddled with his goatee. "I knew that not all the truth about Hogwarts made it out. The Ministry of Magic has an iron fist here. There are too many rumours in Europe and this mist—this dreadful Dementor mist has lasted decades and it's now spreading to other countries!"

"The mist has baffled the Muggles for years. Half the Muggles blame it on climate change. The other half think terrorists are causing it. Only their government knows the truth."

"The Muggles call the Death Eaters, The Green Skulls," said Grindelwald.

"Voldemort has been creating havoc for the Muggles for decades."

"Why hasn't the Ministry done anything about this?"

"They've been helping. The Aurors and Muggle forces work together. But the Ministry have made sure this problem remains only a British problem and have refused help from abroad."

"Hasn't the Muggle government questioned this?" Grindelwald asked, "I'd want help from everyone."

"The Muggles do as the Ministry says. They're too scared of us, and they know it's very hard finding wizards. Yes Muggle warfare helps, but it cannot place a huge dent in Voldemort's army. They bounce right back. The United Kingdom is a powerful country with only a small problem, they tell the world. And the Ministry's agents in the U.N have pleaded for no help."

Grindelwald's brow furrowed. "But why not ask the other Ministries?"

"Because this Ministry is embroiled in corruption and paranoia. Morals, ethics and justice have all been destroyed."

"Please explain why Rufus Scrimgeour's been Minister for eighteen years?" questioned Grindelwald.

"Rufus changed the election laws. No one dares question him."

"And he's imbalanced from what I heard. He hides in the dark while he orders others around."

"Yes," agreed Dumbledore. "He is ruthless and paranoid ever since he was forced to watch his family get murdered seventeen years ago. He believes the Ministry is his inheritance, and that the European nations want to takeover. Rufus ripped apart Ministry departments and disposed of all Heads who opposed him. He replaced them with cruel people he could trust."

"My word!"

"My word, indeed... Almost three decades can warp the way a nation thinks," said Dumbledore sadly. _Including myself,_ he thought.

"And the witch hunts?"

"Say one word against the Ministry and they'll label you a Death Eater or a Ministry Rebel, and they'll send you to Azkaban without a trial."

"It's worse than I thought. When my supporters told me they were scared of the Ministry, I thought they were exaggerating."

Dumbledore nodded. "I've cut most ties with them. I have the Order now, with a thousand members and still growing. We are the good against the weight of both enemies."

"Your followers look up to you. However, Albus, your Order is no match to the Ministry and Voldemort. Your tactics are too noble and your spells weak."

"They're good people. Lost and scared. If we turn to evil, then we're no different."

"Except if you win, life will be better," Grindelwald added. "Your followers admire you, revere you, but I know you, Albus. They don't know what you're capable of and what you've done. If they knew—"

"What they don't know is to their benefit. They're innocent people who want this war over. What I've done… or what I haven't done is my problem alone."

Grindelwald flicked up an eyebrow. "It's not only your problem. You've played with peoples lives."

"Whose lives?" Dumbledore wasn't going to be lectured by a wizard who had killed thousands. "Gellert, we must remain between them. _You_ must remain between Voldemort and the Ministry."

"But you want me to destroy—"

"I don't want you to kill and torture. You need to give Voldemort the right illusion."

"You've grown strange in your old years."

Dumbledore curved his lips into an uneasy smile. "Perhaps..."

"It's like the last sixty years has been a wisp of smoke."

"The past is the past, and now times have grown more desperate."

"Yes, so desperate that you need me in the thick of things," Grindelwald chortled.

"I can't battle him." Dumbledore felt so frail and so weak. "I can't die—won't die—until there is someone strong enough to fight him."

"Now, now, you know that's utter nonsense!"

Dumbledore looked away, as though it was shameful and humiliating to be talking about his lack of power.

"Would you like me to kill him?" Grindelwald asked.

"No, it'll backfire on you."

"You want him alive? After all the trouble he's caused?"

"I'm worried that you don't have the skills to match up to Lord Voldemort," he answered with a frown.

"I was talking about the boy!"

Pausing for a second or two, Dumbledore scratched the point of his crooked long nose. "No."

"There's something you're not telling me about Harry Potter. Is he truly a Mage? Is he the boy who is meant to kill—?"

"There are plenty of things which you do not need to know about Harry Potter... Just wait."

" _Hmmm,_ yes, but what about the second prophecy then?" Grindelwald pressed on.

"Our conversation should end here." He wanted to know how on earth Gellert knew that.

He stared into the wizard's grey eyes, remembering how much they had in common. He remembered their youth together, their fun and adventures, their thirst for power and answers.

Grindelwald looked disappointed. "All right then, until the next time we meet." With a pop he vanished, leaving him alone on the church roof again.

Dumbledore sighed, staring at the very spot his old friend and enemy had sat. He saw something glittering on a broken slate and snatched it up. He chuckled to himself as his eyes raked over the gold calling card. A black 'G' was scrolled upon it. It swirled as though it were alive and writhing.

Satisfied with the evening's events and perhaps with a twinge of doubt twisting in his stomach, Dumbledore pocketed the calling card and pulled out a tattered old note from the same pocket. The note looked as though it had been opened, folded, or flattened a thousand times. Dumbledore read it often, making sure that before the fruition of whatever far fetched plan he had, the words in this note would always ground him firmly in reality.

_I did what you asked me to do, but you still betrayed me._

Dumbledore closed the letter he had treasured for long. He treasured the words for their meaning, for their silent threat. He traced out the boy's tear stains, the boy he had trained and who had fallen spectacularly from grace.

He knew his day would come when he had to face Harry for what had truly happened. But until then, he had plenty of work to do.


	2. Into the Mirror

_A/N: Harry's wand was never broken in the Canon realm and this spurred on the change of fate._

**Into the Mirror**

"I have a bad feeling about this place," Ron said.

Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger held their lit wands up high above them, as they searched their dark surroundings.

They were in a crevice deep in the most remote area of the Scottish Highlands. Not even a hint of grass grew on the wind-swept mountain they had ventured on. Sharp jagged rocks lined the crack and its high ceiling disappeared into darkness. The wind outside roared like a freight train, while the cold within was so bone deep that ice had formed on Harry's clothes. It was the middle of summer, yet here, it felt like winter.

As they drew deeper within the fissure, three forks in the passage presented themselves. Two out of the three were too thin to pass through. For a starved teenager like Harry, he contemplated whether he could squeeze through, but thought better of it. They ended up walking through the third fork.

"This is ridiculous," piped Hermione. The dampness of the place was making her hair bushier. "I swear I saw a blue mist coming from this cave."

"We saw it too," Harry reassured.

They had seen some strange, yet futile endeavours over the several months of their Horcrux hunt; this was turning out to be no different.

Harry ran his hands over the wall of the cave. He felt no strange magic, only that it was very cold to the touch, and wet. He accidentally cut his finger over a piece of dark blue crystal. "Ouch!"

"Are you okay?" Ron asked.

"Yeah." Harry sucked on his bleeding finger.

He had suffered much worse on the hunt. He had almost been killed by a snake, murderous Horcruxes and wandering Death Eaters.

After destroying the locket Horcrux, their interest turned to the strange triangular symbol that had cropped up in several places. It took them to the Lovegoods' house where they learnt that the symbol was for the Deathly Hallows. They also discovered that Luna had been abducted, but they didn't find out anything more because Mr Lovegood had alerted the Death Eaters. So they made a run for it.

They then travelled to Albania, exploring that region where Voldemort had been. While they sat stony-faced in their tent one night, they reminisced about family, friends and Hogwarts. Harry spoke of Luna, and Ron joked about that ridiculous remake of Rowena Ravenclaw's Diadem in Mr Lovegood's house. That's when Ron thought it could be a possible Horcrux.

They knew the Hogwarts founder was from Scotland. This fact took them straight here. They came across an old warlock deep in the mountains, who had heard tales of a place Rowena would study and experiment with magic in. It was called The Giant's Cut, an ancient crevice named by the local wizards in the area.

After months spent travelling like lost souls, Harry felt as though they were on the verge of victory.

"LOOK! Over there." Hermione's voice echoed.

It was certainly a strange mist; dark blue and ominous. Harry inched toward it and saw it was coming out of a tunnel.

Hermione grabbed his arm. "Wait! It might be dangerous." She pointed her wand towards it and muttered an incantation. When the spell produced nothing, she resorted to throwing a rock at it. "Well it seems safe, but I don't know."

Throwing caution into the wind, Harry moved his fingers through the mist. He squeezed his eyes shut, expecting some sort of pain or disfiguration. The only thing he had felt was a strange cold that made his skin and bones prickle with power, making his hand seem more alive than it already was. He pulled his hand away and saw Hermione's peaky face now glistening with cold sweat. She seemed very excited.

"What is it?" He whispered, as he rubbed warmth back into his freezing, tingling fingers.

"I—I don't know."

"At least it didn't kill you." Ron smirked as he felt the mist for himself. "Feels so weird…"

"There's ancient magic here. Magic lost to time." Hermione's eyes followed the trail of mist up above them, until the darkness swallowed it up. "Isn't it just fascinating?"

"Yeah, it is. But I still have a bad feeling about this place." Ron tentatively placed a hand on the crevice wall trying to pull out one of the blue crystals.

"We have to be really careful now. You-Know-Who might've booby-trapped this place," explained Harry, eyeing Ron apprehensively as he successfully pulled out the crystal.

Harry looked beyond the mist and discovered that the tunnel contained roughly carved stone steps. "There's stairs—"

_"ARRRRRGHHHH!"_

"RON!" Hermione screamed.

Their best friend had fallen through the side of the wall and was tumbling down a secret set of steps. They followed swiftly and heard a thump at the bottom, and Ron's echoing groans.

"Ron, are you okay?" Harry shouted.

Hermione reached him first, her cloak flying about her. "Oh Ron," she whimpered, kneeling beside him.

"M'ok," he croaked, feeling the large gash on his head. He paled even more at the sight of the blood on his fingers.

Hermione quickly fished around for the bottle of dittany in her purse.

"I just touched this massive blue crystal, and the wall vanished."

"It's ok, mate. Do you feel anything broken?" Harry asked.

"I don't think so."

He propped his friend up slowly. Harry looked around the chamber, his eyes suddenly adjusting to the strange blue light, and then he swore loudly.

"I'm sorry," Ron mumbled.

"No, Ron." Harry pointed around the chamber. "Look around you."

Everywhere, books and thick scrolls lined the chamber walls. More bizarrely, hundred of tomes were floating above them out of reach and the same blue mist they had seen above lingered here more thickly. The mist seemed to have created a barrier around the books, swirling slowly around them like time did not exist here.

"You're bloody brilliant, Ron!" Harry yelled in joy as he ventured over to a stone shelf carved into the chamber wall. Excitement pumped through him. He was sure that they were going to find the diadem now.

Ron staggered upright with Hermione's help, though he looked unsure whether his tumble down the secret passage had really been worth the effort. They walked around the circular room together.

Harry cautiously put his hand through the mist, grabbing hold of a large leather bound book that sat on a shelf carved out from the stone wall. The book looked as new as the day it was made. Frowning, he opened the cover and discovered that the colours were bright and the gilding beautiful. Little drawings of people walked about the cover. The scrolled text shifted lightly as though it were in a breeze. It was made over a thousand years ago in complete Latin, yet perfectly preserved with not a dog-eared page, fading colours or the peeling of leather in sight.

"Hey Hermione, this book doesn't look old at all."

She peeked over his shoulder, snatching the book off his hands, while Ron took another off a shelf.

" _Hmm._ It's like the mist is… _oh…_ " Her eyes suddenly glazed over. She suddenly began rummaging through the shelves looking for something, opening each book in a hurried state.

"What is it?"

Ron rolled his eyes. "Let's just wait til she's ready to tell us."

Harry agreed and continued to explore the chamber. A book floating above decided to hover near his ear. It was the only floating book to have come down low enough for him to touch.

But immediately he knew this was the wrong thing to do. Something very bizarre and unwelcome was happening to him. A white light erupted from the spot he had touched and he seemed glued to the book, unable to shake it off.

"WHAT—?"

"HARRY!" Hermione screamed.

Ron tried to grab him, but he was repelled across the room. He smashed into one of the shelves and fell unconscious. Harry yelled out, but no sound came out. The unknown force prevented him from doing so.

Now a familiar, yet strange sensation of travel was occurring. But it wasn't a normal Portkey as he soon found out. There was no normal hooking sensation around his belly button, nor was there that familiar feeling of being sucked through space. Even the colour he saw through his confused eyes wasn't normal: it was red, a darkish red that struck foreboding into every inch of his being. Within the dark red void, blinding light suddenly pierced through, like claws had been scratching it away. Harry yelled and squeezed his eyes shut as the light stung.

Paralysed by an unknown strength binding to him like tentacles, he was forced to hear Hermione's anguished shouts.

Then, out of nowhere, a loud whooshing sound roared in his ears, drowning out his friend's terrified voice. After a second, he heard strange sounds, people's voices; snippets of conversations. Some seemed happy, others angry. There were snatches of laughter and moments of crying, and something which sounded like a train blazing past him. It was like somebody was tuning a radio to their favourite station.

Just as the noise became excruciatingly loud, it abruptly stopped. He then heard nothing. It was like the longest Floo Harry had ever experienced.

He never felt himself hit hard ground. Harry thought hard whether or not he should open his eyes.

Taking in a deep breath, he finally did so. The book that had been stuck to his hand lay in his lap now, looking quite ordinary. He read the title in a state of panic, unable to look beyond the book in fear of what he would find. The book read in a strange language. _Oe Fo Irbil._ He picked it up using the sleeves of his jacket and flung it far away from him, like it was diseased.

He finally took the courage to look around his new surroundings. He expected to see himself in some deserted park or forest, or a dungeon. Instead, what he saw stunned him.

Harry bolted upright and gripped his wand.

A woman, aged in her late thirties, with auburn grey-streaked hair was pointing a wand right into his face. What shocked Harry most of all was those bright green eyes that framed her familiar face.

Lily Potter stared back, angry and shocked, and _alive_.

"M-Mum?" Was he dead? It had to be a nightmare, or maybe it was a Death Eater trick. "Mum—Lily Potter?"

Lily's wand shook slightly and she grew pale at those simple words, it was like she hadn't been called 'Mum' by Harry for a very long time. Her mouth quivered, her eyes darting from door to window, then to him again.

"H-Harry, how did you escape Azkaban?"

"What?" he laughed. " _Azkaban?_ I was never in Azkaban. I'm dreaming." He pinched himself.

"Dreaming?" she repeated slowly, confused. "Harry, you escaped days ago. Why did you come back here?"

"Come back? Listen, I didn't come _here_. I—I'm not even sure where here is, or if this is real."

Lily laughed haughtily. "Yes, this is very real. Do you want to kill us?"

"I didn't come—"

"Don't play games with me!"

He glared back. Where the hell was he? Who was she? "You're a Death Eater. You're the one tricking me."

She raised her eyebrows. " _You're_ the Death Eater, Harry!"

Lily cautiously pulled the blinds down. The room was instantly bathed in an eerie light. "Tell me the truth!"

"I. Don't. Know," he stressed. "Who are you? You're not my mother."

"You've gone mad!"

Irrational theories sprung into Harry's mind: Voldemort had tricked him into Rowena's crevice. He was trying to convince himself that this wasn't real, because Lily Potter had died almost seventeen years before. He raised his wand again.

A jet of red light sizzled past Harry's ear, smashing a family portrait behind him. He covered his head, ducking as a shower of glass and red sparks danced off the walls.

"Look," he panted while pointing at the tome. "I touched that strange book and, it acted like a Portkey. Only now, I'm not so sure it really was a Portkey."

Lily looked at him closely with a calculating expression Harry knew only too well from knowing Snape. But he didn't feel she was using Legilimency. He wasn't great at Occlumency, but he had been practicing a little more lately.

"Stop lying, Harry!"

"Mummy?"

Lily gasped, and so did Harry at the sound of a little girl's voice.

Then a realisation hit him, had he travelled into a Mirror Universe?

"Mummy, what's going on? I heard shouting and something break."

Harry could tell this witch was now extremely frantic, her wide eyes focused on the figure he could not see in the hallway. But he found the portrait that had fallen, covered in shattered glass. His heart nearly stopped when he picked it up.

All five members were staring at him. His mum and dad were in it, along with three children. There were two teenage boys, both auburn-haired like their mum, and the tallest wore glasses. The little girl, who looked about ten in the picture, had black pigtails, but her glassy eyes were all white. She was not smiling and neither did she wave. But most notably, there was no Harry in the picture.

"He's here, isn't he?"

"Jessica, darling, I want you to go up to your room, lock it, and contact your fath—no wait, contact Remus and tell him he's back. You know what to do, now go!"

"Jessica," he whispered, staring into her misty eyes in the photo.

If all this was true, then Harry could've had a little sister and brothers. He was suddenly jolted out of his thoughts when he felt something hard on his temple. He let go of the picture, letting it crash onto the floor again.

"Give me your wand and get up!" Lily yelled.

"What are their names—your two boys?" Harry asked, obeying the witch.

"Don't even pretend—" She looked livid. "Now move!"

He felt a painful jab on his temple and he complied, too stunned to fight back. There was no way this witch was a Death Eater. Why would she continue to play games with him, particularly when there were children involved?

Harry passed the kitchen and was led to a closed door. Lily opened it to reveal a vast darkness, and steps that seemed to lead nowhere.

"Get in. And don't bother using your Mage magic—"

"Mage—?"

Lily huffed. "The basement's got a number of protective enchantments Dumbledore has kindly put on."

_Dumbledore's alive here!_ He was forced down the stairs. Lily closed the door and he could hear a number of locking charms being placed on it.

In the darkness, he felt his way around the room with a million questions buzzing through his mind.

Since when was he a Mage? It was rare for someone to do ancient magic, and to be one was uncommon. Most become Mages through Dark magic and never lived long. But a natural born Mage was even rarer and Harry doubted he was. Surely, Dumbledore would've told him.

He leaned his head on the wall and closed his eyes. Maybe when he woke up, he could joke around with Ron about this stupid dream.

 


	3. The Shattering

The mist outside Remus Lupin's cottage in Yorkshire was cold and menacing, but he sat nicely rugged up in an armchair. He drank tea as he read a few reports from Auror and Order member, Kingsley Shacklebolt.

The first had been about their friend's abducted children escaping from Malfoy Manor, the same day as the Azkaban breakout. They were searching Wiltshire for them, though so far, there was no trace of them. Remus knew that they were scared to be caught by Bellatrix and the Ministry. They also mistrusted the Order, despite their source giving them instructions where to hide. Therefore finding them was going to be difficult.

The second was a report that detailed sixteen strange murders of Death Eaters and another missing goblin that had happened in the past week. All the bodies had a Grindelwald's symbol carved on their cheek.

The third was all about the break out at Azkaban. One section of the Black Square, which housed the worst of the Death Eaters and Ministry rebels, had been blasted to bits, allowing several prisoners to escape. A few Death Eaters showed up minutes later to fight and rescue a few, which could only be described as an uncoordinated attack. This suggested the breakout had not been planned by Voldemort. It was either orchestrated by Harry or this mysterious person creating these so called, 'Grindelwald Murders.'

Remus was perplexed. Who would use the Grindelwald symbol now days? These murders had been ongoing for months, but never so many in a week. And why had three goblins gone missing in the last few months? It was creating a dangerous situation between goblin and wizard relations.

There were many questions though, and people were scared. Some say it was Grindelwald, others say it's a ruse by the Ministry to create chaos in Voldemort's circle.

Dumbledore has tried to quell these stories by telling the Order that Grindelwald was still shackled up in Nurmengard. Still, Remus couldn't shake that something ominous was brewing.

Flames roared in his fire grate, painting the room purple. The war-torn man, with the look of someone who was recovering from an illness, moved towards the fire, catching his reflection in a mirror as he hobbled over.

He hated mirrors and hated the way shadows emphasised his sunken eyes and cheeks. The wisps of grey in his hair made him wince at how prematurely old he must look. Even his old little house he now lived alone in made him feel older than he was.

"Remus?" called a little girl from the grate.

Jessica always placed a smile on his face. It was just a pity the girl didn't smile back anymore.

"Hello Jessica—"

There was something wrong. Perhaps it was the way her lips quivered or the way the purple licks of flames highlighted the terror in her foggy eyes.

"What's happened?"

"Harry's back. Mummy caught him. She wants you to come over, right now."

Remus felt as though all his breath had been knocked out of him. He knew Harry would try something against his own family again, but he didn't think it would be this soon since his escape.

"Are you all okay?"

"Yes," the girl whispered, before her Flooed head disappeared from the flames.

Remus draped his cloak on, and stepped into the purple flames. "The Potters," he shouted. His mind whirled just like his senses as he travelled through the Floo connection.

The normal Floo Network was closely regulated, that the Ministry of Magic had to authorise every single travel. Once the user stepped into the flames, they'd be automatically Flooed to the Ministry where he would need to fill out tedious amounts of paperwork. Occasionally, they would be subjected to a random interrogation about their itinerary. Sometimes they never made it to their destination, vanishing completely.

The purple Floo that every member of The Order of the Phoenix used was a dangerous and illegal version, allowing them to circumnavigate the Ministry. The only annoying thing about this Floo was its constant unreliability. Sometimes the network would shut down if the Ministry honed in on it.

Arriving, Remus stepped into the darkness of Jessica's bedroom and turned on the light. He found the girl fiddling with a lock of her black hair, back against the wall, staring ahead into nothingness.

"He's in the basement. Mummy said to lock myself in here."

"You've done well, sweetheart. Now, tell me, did he fight back?" Jessica shook her head. _Strange,_ he thought. _You were caught too easily, Harry_ … "Don't move from here," he said calmly.

"Remus…" the girl whispered, wrapping her skinny arms around him, "don't leave me."

"You're safe in here. He won't hurt you again, I promise."

Remus pulled away from Jessica, leaving her to continue watching the wall as he left the bedroom.

He hurried down the stairs, and wasn't surprised to hear a small sob coming from the kitchen. Remus tore his focus away from the basement door, and headed towards the distraught mother.

"Lily, are you alright? Why haven't you called the Order in—?"

"Oh God, Remus, he came back. I can't believe he's here!" she wailed, catching him in a strangling hug. Her long auburn hair was in a tangle around her wet face.

"It was only a matter of time."

"I—I've tried to be strong—but he's still my child."

"But we have to keep our shields up," he encouraged. "Harry's not the little boy you once knew. You just have to look at Jessica and at Charlie's grave to realise he's turned. What about the countless people he's tortured or killed—even your sister's family?"

Lily sat down in defeat. She had been such a tough warrior before now; this was the first time in almost a year Lily had actually showed any sort of emotion towards her eldest child. The last time Remus saw her cry was when they saw watched Harry being taken to Azkaban without a trial.

"I called you because I know as soon as James—Look, you know how hot-headed he can be. Besides, it's the first time in years he's had some quality time with the boys. I want it to be spe—special for them."

"But Dumbledore needs to know, now!" he protested. "The Order—"

"Screw the Order!" Lily got up again. "This is our chance, our chance to talk some bloody sense into—turn him over to our side." Her face was bright with hope.

Lily was hysterical, he thought. "No, it won't work. He's just too far in. He was Voldemort's right hand—"

"I don't know why I'm feeling like this. I just don't want to. But it's all coming back. I saw something in his eyes, Remus, I really did."

"Like what?"

"Good." She chuckled coldly, "I'm imagining things, aren't I? But explain why the Foe Alarm didn't trigger to an enemy here? He didn't disable them, they're still active."

"Harry is a Mage. He can manipulate magic. Look, remember what you said when they first caught him?" he asked. He had been told everything after Arthur had accompanied her and Dumbledore to see Harry in the Auror Department.

"I'm not proud of it. It wasn't me! I didn't mean it." She placed a hand over her heart, as though the words were wounds that needed to be healed.

"You spat in his face. You slapped him so hard that even Umbridge was surprised. You told him right there he was evil, and that you were ashamed that you had given birth to him."

"I don't know why I said that!"

Remus hated himself for reminding her. He just needed to make sure she was not becoming disillusioned.

"I just want to know why," she cried.

"We all do."

The Lily he knew would be kind to even the most deadly of creatures and would help strangers and outcasts like him. She'd see past the bad things or faults in that person, and uncover that little bit of good. It was in her nature to give people a second chance. And what had happened in the Auror Department revealed how truly shattered she was as a mother and as a friend.

She pulled something out of her robe: a battered looking wand in desperate need of a good polish. "Harry had it. We should try to contact whoever it's stolen from."

"If they're not dead."

"Please Remus, please talk to him."

"Okay," he resigned. "Then we'll call the Order in."

* * *

Harry sat on the cold floor, remembering what Flitwick told them in sixth year about Mirror Universes; he knew the magic to open the barriers was extremely advanced, rare and nearly extinct, banned by Ministries of Magic around the world for centuries, just as Horcruxes were and Time Turners regulated. Only an unusually powerful person could open it. It was realising this that made Harry's stomach fill with butterflies; Rowena Ravenclaw had been truly gifted.

His ears perked up when he heard basement door opening.

"Move and you'll wish you were never born." With a flick of the wizard's wand, Harry found himself restrained by invisible ropes.

"Remus?" The dark shadow did not respond. "Professor Lupin?"

"Since when have I ever been a professor?"

The wand flared up and Harry saw the werewolf perfectly clear.

"Have those Atoners addled your brain?"

Harry wondered what the hell Atoners were. "Wha—?"

"Your mother seems to think that we can change you for the better. But you and I both know that'll never happen." Remus paused. "Now, why are you here? You could've gone straight to your master. Why did you get yourself caught so easily, _hmm_?"

"I'm not the Harry you know. I think I am—I'm a Mirror from another world."

"A Mirror?" Remus raised an eyebrow. "Quite original, Harry…"

He let out a frustrated sigh. "It's true! My friends and I were in a strange cave..." He decided not to reveal too much about where he had been. "I touched a, er, book hidden there, and it acted as a strange Portkey."

"And what you were doing in that cave?"

"Research..."

"For what?"

Harry hesitated. "A diadem."

Remus quietly registered his face. "Why?"

Harry just stared.

_"Why?"_ the werewolf repeated more firmly.

"I'm sorry, but I can't tell you."

"I think you're lying."

"I'm telling the truth!"

"How did you come here? Did you organise the escape?"

Harry tensed, growing angrier. "The book I touched forced me to travel to—what I assume is—a Mirrored Dimension."

"That wouldn't be magic easily accessible to anyone," he scoffed. "It's not magic within reach of a seventeen year old—"

"Hey, you don't know—"

"What you've done? You murdered your own brother and almost killed your sister!"

"The book is upstairs, somewhere. Feel free to check it out." Harry was done talking.

"We can't open it."

"But— _What?"_

"We think you stole the book from the person you took the wand, and made it into a Portkey."

"No... I... That wand is mine!"

Remus Lupin sneered. It was the first time Harry had ever seen that look on his old professor's face, and it was disconcerting.

He had once or twice imagined a different world where his parents were alive. But in that world he was happy, safe, and his parents loved him. There was no death, heartache or Voldemort. A stupid dream, he thought, as he felt the hurt of Remus's sneer dig deep.

The werewolf's gaze slowly moved up to Harry's forehead. The wand carefully prodded his fringe away, revealing the lightning bolt scar. "That's new," he said.

"It's a curse scar…" He told him the story. "It had to do with a stupid prophecy Snape had overheard."

Remus scoffed at again. It was a blow to his tragedy and the memory of his parents. "I'M NOT LYING!" Harry yelled angrily.

"You are borrowing from the Longbottom's story." The werewolf stood up.

"Wait—the Longbottoms are dead—even Neville? You have to believe me, sir, where I'm from—"

"I'm sorry, but it's hard to believe you when you've done so much to destroy hundreds of lives." Remus shook his wand and the light disappeared.

"How did you escape?"

Harry pursed his lips, not answering.

"Alright... Before I leave, where did you get that wand? And for once, tell us the truth."

"I've told you before, it's mine."

* * *

Remus frowned as he locked the basement door. It was the second time since the beginning of the boy's sixth year that he was very undernourished. It was expected that Harry would be maltreated in Azkaban, but still, it was a shock.

Even though the Dementors had abandoned it a decade before, the Aurors there made sure the prisoners wished they only had horrific memories to deal with. The Ministry didn't lift a finger to stop the crimes and corruption that plagued Azkaban, in fact, they encouraged it.

"Did he talk?"

"Yes… and no," he replied, rubbing his tired eyes. "He—"

"What exactly did you talk to him about?" a rough voice spat back.

They jumped at James' sudden appearance. Jessica was gripping her father's robes, hiding behind him. He looked as livid as he had on the day he promised over his dead son's grave that he would punish Harry for what he had done.

Sirius bolted into the kitchen. His hair was combed back sleekly, and a goatee proudly adorned his handsome face. There were a few lipstick stains on his unbuttoned collar. Remus vaguely wondered who Sirius was seeing this week.

"Where is he?" Sirius said, looking around the hall, his eyes locking on the basement door. "I want to stare into my Godson's face before—"

James gripped his best friend's shoulder hard; the both of them seemed to communicate in silence.

"Wh-where are the boys?" Lily stuttered.

"I left them with the Weasleys. Now, why the hell didn't you tell me?" James yelled. There was a crease between his brows; his grey flecked hair tumbling over his eyes.

"I—I just couldn't!"

Jessica was cowering behind her father. "I'm sorry, Mummy, but Daddy called in to say hello and I told him."


	4. Attack and Fly

Harry didn't have time to reflect on his conversation with Remus, because he heard several angry voices coming from upstairs. He knew the situation was going to get worse.

"Protect him?" he heard an angry man say. "From what?"

"From you, James!"

"Oh my God," Harry couldn't believe his was hearing his father talk _._

"He doesn't need protecting, if you ask me," said another, who sounded like Sirius.

Harry gasped. Hearing him speak again felt so surreal to him. He missed Sirius so much and it brought back the grief.

"I wasn't asking you!" Lily yelled. "Why do you have to be on James's side all the time?"

"Because I'm right," James bellowed. "He's going to pay and this time you can't stop me. You can't restrain me like last time!"

"You would've killed him if you went to the Auror Department."

Any moment now, Harry was going to see his father again—this time alive and in a very murderous mood.

_BANG!_

The door flew open and bright light flooded the basement. Harry scrambled into a corner. He looked up to see James Potter literally flying down the stairs, while Lily tried desperately to stop him in his tracks.

"NO, JAMES, DON'T!"

Harry didn't even have time to think, let alone speak, before he felt fingers wrap around his neck. Harry struggled, then his eyes widened at the almost insane look on his father's face.

"You're not my son! You died with Charlie," James gritted. "You _died_ with Charlie!"

Harry began kicking him and felt his grip slacken. James then threw him onto the ground.

With panic, Harry saw Sirius stopping Lily from trying to curse him. She shot wand sparks into the air as Sirius battled to rip it from her hand. Lily smacked him hard in the face.

"I'm—not—your—son," he spluttered.

But it was no use. All it did was fuel the man's desire to make him suffer for what Mirror Harry had done.

"Stop lying," James spat, his words drowning out Lily's screams. "You came back and you killed him. You almost killed your sister. You could've left them alone and gone for me instead." James's tears fell onto Harry's face.

Black smog filled Harry's vision. He couldn't see James now, and his voice became a strange echo.

"You… you… _Murderer_ …"

A girl, somewhere, screamed. Her voice was so shrill, so high. Harry dimly thought someone would notice her. Then everything went black.

* * *

Remus held his breath as James seemed to have realised what he had done, letting go of the boy's neck. He jerked backwards. Then he hesitantly shook his son's shoulder. "Ha—Harry?" There was no response. "What have I—?" A look of horror washed over his face. "No! Wake up—WAKE UP!"

Then Lily attacked. "YOU KILLED HIM!" she screamed, turning James around and hitting him right on the chin.

Remus's heart thumped hard as he cradled Jessica.

"Nonononononooooooo!" the little girl cried.

"He's not dead," Sirius said angrily. "Otherwise the Aurors would've come through!"

Remus turned away. " _Shhhh._ Jessica, Harry is going to be alright."

"I don't wa-want him t-to die."

He walked the girl over to the living room and sat her down in the armchair that seemed to swallow her little body up. "Don't move from here until I say so." Jessica sniffled and wiped her cloudy white eyes with the sleeve of her jumper.

"Remus…"

He looked down. "Yes?"

"I di-didn't mean to tell Daddy."

"Sweetheart, none of this is your fault."

When he returned to the basement he found Lily crying in a corner. James was backed against the wall with closed eyes. Sirius rubbed his temples, as though the entire event had caused him a migraine.

Remus knelt down to check on Harry.

"He's not dead," repeated Sirius. The bitterness was back in his voice.

"I heard you the first time." Bruising was starting to blossom around the boy's neck. Remus muttered a spell, healing the boy. He learnt that little spell from his Healer wife, Anne. However, thinking about her always reopened old wounds.

James opened his eyes, and a steely look quickly replaced his horrified expression.

"Do you want to end up in Azkaban? This family's lost so much already," Remus said calmly. Even though James glared back, he would've regretted going too far.

Sirius snorted. "I think the Ministry would congratulate him for snuffing out a big name Death Eater."

"SHUT UP!" Lily screamed.

James grimaced. "I—I'm… I'm not sorry!"

"You don't mean those words," Remus replied quietly.

"Stop it, Remus, I'm warning you!" he fired back.

James's heart had been torn out with the death of his child at the hand of the other. He was now a broken man. James had once been revered for his adventures, his charm and wit. He had lived life to the fullest and showered those he cared about with love and affection. He was none of that now, Remus sadly thought. The new James was a brooding fellow, snapping at the littlest mishap, annoyed at smiles and laughter.

"No matter how much you despise what he did, Harry is still _our_ son," Lily yelled. She picked up her son's left arm, peeling his sleeve back.

"You think too much with your heart," Sirius growled.

"Excuse me?" she hissed. "You used to, too, before you became a cheap playboy!"

"I am not—"

"STOP FIGHTING!" Remus yelled, putting a hand on his friend's chest. "Sirius, just go and call the Order in."

He knew Sirius would rather argue a bit more. His nostrils flared with brooding anger. He wiped away a little bit of blood from his lip from where Lily had smacked him and left.

Remus's mind was buzzing as he looked over Lily's shoulder to see Harry's forearm. There was no Dark Mark, except for two scars that looked like puncture marks from a snake, and much less scars than they would've expected.

"No Dark Mark. I think he's covering up most of his wounds and scars well."

"Don't bother with a Revealing Charm," Sirius said. "Mage magic has a different imprint—too difficult to remove even normal spells without a bit of elbow grease."

"I know that, but I'm still going to try!" she snapped back as Sirius disappeared up the stairs. Lily placed her wand over where the mark should be. Nothing happened. " _Sod…_ he's updated that Mark Disguising Charm."

Remus nodded in agreement. It was a spell of Harry's invention and originally the Dark Lord did not like it, but now it was a useful tool for the child soldiers, known as the Conditioned to escape Ministry investigations.

"We'll need to check that wand he stole, too," James croaked. "A few months back we heard that Harry had created a Dark charm that manipulates a wand's history, so that every time a Dark curse was used, the echo of the victim would be obscured and unrecognisable."

Remus learnt that many of the younger Death Eaters used this curse to hide their destruction. For the Conditioned, who still had trouble killing, the spell would hide the identities of their failed kills and escape punishment from their Mentors—Death Eaters who had been assigned to their training. Although, now that that charm was revealed, the Mentors were particularly scrupulous with their captives.

Lily frowned. "So… victims remain unnamed and unfound? That's one more thing you've been hiding from me James!"

He crossed his arms, and his cheeks lightly flushed. "Because you get overly sentimental about your murderous child every time he pops into our conversations."

"That's enough!" Remus interjected.

Lily huffed, before throwing Revealing Charms at the boy, which showed nothing, despite his recent Portkey travel and Remus binding him up. As Sirius had said, Mage magic hides and even absorbs remnants of magic, no matter how old it was, or as trivial as Floo travel.

She gave up and fell back. "At least his spells are helping keep the Conditioned safe."

James scoffed. "They're not innocent children. They're Death Eaters."

"They're still victims!"

Remus was on the fence about this. Yes these were victims, however now, they were brainwashed soldiers.

In the last eighteen years of war, it had become common practice, and a form of initiation for Death Eaters to kidnap half-blood and pureblooded children whose parents had angered the Dark Lord. A few didn't survive to become Death Eaters, succumbing to their maltreatment as their captors trained them. Many families of the Order of the Phoenix had fallen victim to this barbaric practice, and Remus hated visiting these members to tell them their children had died fighting against the Order or Ministry or by other means.

Since Harry was one of the targets of the prophecy they were all afraid of this happening to him, but strangely, he had not been kidnapped, he had just walked away from their side.

Harry neither confirmed nor denied that he had joined Voldemort when he was eleven, thus leading a double life. How his actions could have escaped them all boggled Dumbledore especially. For it was an open secret that Dumbledore had been training the boy to defeat Voldemort.

The year before, Harry had walked into his bedroom and killed his brother. When he turned around and discovered that his sister had watched, he cursed her as well. They never knew why he didn't kill her. Harry was closest to his little sister and she loved him the most; for that reason, he may have hesitated to finish her off.

Remus remembered hearing Jessica's screams. They broke through the locked bedroom and saw Harry as he stood over his dead brother and screaming sister. Then he Disapparated, breaking through the enchantments of the house.

He suddenly jolted out of his thoughts when Lily spoke.

"What's this?" Lily questioned, as she felt over Harry's clothes for anything disguised. She pulled out a pouch from underneath his shirt and ripped it free. She tried to open it, but failed.

"Mummy," Jessica cried once more. The girl was becoming more and more agitated the longer they were down there.

"Come on, let's go. He'll be fine," Remus beseeched as he watched James trudge up the stairs looking utterly defeated by the world.

"James—"

"Leave him," Lily said.

He agreed sullenly.

"Wait, we can't just leave Harry here, like this."

Remus hesitated, waved his wand around and a blanket floated over Harry, with a pillow fitting snugly under his head.

She waved her wand and moment later a jug of water and a tin of baked beans whizzed over their heads, landing softly near him. "What else should we do for him?"

Remus frowned. "Nothing until Dumbledore sees him."

* * *

The house was in darkness. With every footstep, the creaking sounds of the floorboards echoed in the destroyed rooms.

"Lumos."

Rubble had littered the corridor. As Dumbledore navigated through it he took a moment to stare at a ripped teddy bear, like it was something from a distant memory.

He then followed Kingsley, whose cloak had just disappeared around the bend. Meanwhile, Arthur Weasley had diverged into a different room.

It was oddly quiet, and it made him more alert. He could smell the telltale metallic odour caused by a furious magical battle. Oddly, it seemed more intense than normal Death Eater attacks.

"Over here."

In the upstairs corridor, there were two dead Death Eaters, and one Auror who lay dying. He looked at the Death Eaters faces and found the bloodied carvings of the Deathly Hallows symbol on their cheeks. _I told you not to use your old tricks.._.

However, it was the sight of the dead boy with white, wide eyes, standing against the wall, which got their attention the most.

Dumbledore waved his lit wand at the boy. The corpse wasn't quite Inferi. This was different.

It cocked its head as a trickle of blood escaped its nose.

"Merlin…" Arthur gasped.

"What's your message?" Dumbledore commanded as he took a step back. The light of his wand twinkled in the boy's pale eyes. Mesmerising. "Do not touch him," he calmly told the others. He had a feeling the boy would attack them if they did.

It moved its jaw left and right, bowed its head and rasped, _"Your side is losing, Dumbledore. It is time to die."_

The corpse fell to the floor. They gazed at it, lost for words, until something gargled behind them.

"Dumbledore..." The dying Auror coughed and wheezed. "Dumbledore..."

He crouched down. "What happened here? Where's the rest of the family?"

"They took them. We failed... Father dead. Mother to Hogwarts. She knew things about ... about the Greek, Italian Depart... Mysteries... The other children... will be condi-" He coughed, "we couldn't save the oldest… stupid boy tried to fight them."

"Yes… a shame," Dumbledore grimaced, staring at the boy's now closed eyes.

"Grindelwald... wanted Unspeakable too..."

_What are you up to, Gellert?_ "Grindelwald didn't mark you."

"Played dead..."

Dumbledore was about to stand when the Auror grabbed his wrist. "Come close..."

"Yes?"

"What have you done?" the Auror whispered.

The grey haired, sallow faced Auror was high up in the Ministry. This family he had been protecting had been Voldemort's target.

"What do you mean?"

"You let him loose... why?"

"How do you know?"

"I didn't." He revealed a bloodied grin. "Just a hunch... Shall I call you, _Mr Cicen_?"

Dumbledore looked at the Auror's hand around his wrist. It tightened.

"Your secret will die with me. Tell me."

"I made a deal with the devil to end this war."

The Auror laughed and blood poured out of his mouth. "No. _You_ are the devil," he hissed into his ear.

Dumbledore pulled away and watched the Auror gargle mid laughter before dying.

"Albus. Albus? What did he say?" Arthur asked.

He hesitated briefly. Relief flooded into his body at the thought of the Auror dead now. "The Order is in danger…"

"When aren't we?"

A large ragged dog Patronus appeared suddenly in the room. "Harry's returned. _Chickens_ in chaos—Potters—Come quick."

Dumbledore closed his eyes, feeling a mixture of pity and anger.

Then they all vanished with a pop.

* * *

Remus helped Lily up the stairs and made sure that she didn't look back. "I think we all need a nice strong cup of tea," he added.

"Firewhiskey—"

She froze, shoulders tensing. He followed her gaze and saw Dumbledore. He was across the living room, staring at them with mistrust.

"Dare I ask what has happened here?"

Sirius crossed his arms and spoke first. "Harry's returned."

"What have you done to him?" As he asked this, Kingsley and Arthur appeared.

"As I have explained to you all before, if you are to come in contact with Harry, do not harm him. Revenge is all too easy in this day and age, and a little restraint goes a long way."

They all shifted uneasily. There was a fierce chill radiating from Dumbledore's figure. Gone were the days in which only humour and understanding twinkled in those light blue eyes. Now, after twenty-eight years of darkness, the toll of war had taken over his kindred spirit. Now he wanted answers fast. While his decisions and tactics were to be obeyed without hesitation.

Dumbledore seemed a little frail nowadays; he had just recovered from his defeat and did not need the aid of a cane anymore, and sometimes they wondered if his decisions were right for the Order.

"Are you all OK? Is he hurt?" Kingsley asked.

"We're fine," Remus quickly replied. "The boy is, ah, resting."

"And James?" Dumbledore said.

Lily sighed. "Brooding alone… Hello Arthur, any word from Molly about Michael and Christopher?"

Arthur took off his travelling cloak and placed it over his arm. He adjusted his lopsided glasses over his kindly face. "I'm sure they're fine. Molly, on the otherhand..."

"Come everyone, let's talk." The old headmaster moved away. Remus mentally sighed in relief. Hopefully that when Dumbledore did see the boy, he'd be awake.

They sat down in the kitchen and Dumbledore waved his wand behind his shoulder, setting the kettle to work over the stove. He then closed his eyes, tapping his fingers together. "We are still not sure what occurred at Azkaban."

"Most of the escaped Death Eaters were once abducted children," Lily retorted.

"Perhaps, but they're dangerous adults now," Arthur replied.

Sirius took a seat right next to Remus. His cut lip was all healed up now. He leaned in and whispered, "We better go look for James after this meeting, Moony."

Remus nodded, but he knew where James was. "Next time, we better keep him calm."

Sirius' eyes flashed, much to the werewolf's annoyance. "You try telling him that."

"You too, Sirius."

"Alright," he exasperated with a roll of his eyes. "I agree, we went a bit too far—"

"Just a bit?"

"Look, he's alright, so let's move on and get him back to prison."

"How did he arrive here?" Dumbledore asked, cutting through the chatter.

Remus breathed in sharply and focused on the Order members. More would arrive shortly. At least the select few Dumbledore would've invited to this meeting.

"He said he Portkeyed with this book." Lily disappeared to retrieve the Portkey. She walked into the kitchen holding a large leather tome and placed it on the table. "And we can't open it."

Dumbledore snatched it up, holding it close to his long, crooked nose. He squinted, turning the book this way and that, as though he was trying to discover microscopic evidence. "Where did he Portkey from?"

Lily gave a humourless laugh and went into detail about how Harry had told them that he had come from a Mirror Universe. "He even had to cheek to ask me the names of his brothers. I know what those Atoners do at Azkaban, but I thought… I wanted to believe they weren't true." She looked concerned. "He seems a little bit… _unsettled_."

Dumbledore eyebrows rose for a long moment, before he stared at the book again. "Is there anything else, anything unusual in demeanour or appearance? Something that might suggest the Atoners damaged him?"

"He says has a curse scar," Remus added. This 'insane' theory was starting to look more and more plausible. "It's shaped like a lightning bolt on his forehead."

"Interesting..."

Remus explained the story of how it happened. "Personally, I think an Atoner did that."

"Whatever curse it was, it has damaged his mind," Dumbledore said gently.

Lily looked absolutely shocked and terrified by Remus's information. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because he said you and James were dead."

"I'll need to see him," Dumbledore said.

"What are you going to ask him?" Remus questioned.

"Not much tonight." He played with his moustache, thinking. "He is a skilled Occlumens... that when he has allowed me into his mind, I can not tell if what I see is truth or lies. I cannot believe anything he says anymore, even with the aid of Veritiserum. I taught him a technique Aurors learn to overcome the effects of truth potions."

"We may have to use more extreme measures if he fails to comply, but only as the last resort," Kingsley said.

"Then I fear for him." Dumbledore grimaced.

"The alarm hadn't been tripped when he arrived here," Lily added, growing paler by the second.

Dumbledore narrowed his eyes. "The alarms can be flawed. Harry can—"

"Manipulate them," finished Lily, dryly.

Remus noticed Dumbledore was looking more and more perplexed. He tapped his fingers on the book.

"Now, where's the wand he used?"

Lily took it out of her robe sleeve. "It's Holly and Phoenix feather."

Dumbledore gently took the wand, caressing it like a rare, precious object. "His Mage ability still needs controlling. I told him that."

Sirius nudged Remus hard as though they had been given a scrap of interesting news. It was the first time Dumbledore spoke openly about his relationship with Harry with the Order.

It was the period after Dumbledore lost his battle with Voldemort that Harry began to change dramatically. His power grew beyond Dumbledore's expectations and he became secretive, quiet, falling out with friends and so angry. It also didn't help that he was a Death Eater.

"He also had a charmed pouch around his neck, which I can't open." Lily dropped the pouch onto the table in front of them so that everyone could see it clearly.

"This might be easier to open."

"Why?" said Remus, watching Dumbledore flick his wand, bathing the pouch in a golden glow.

"I sense weaker magic." He then pulled out the bits and pieces hidden within it: A snitch fluttered feebly about in his hand, then a shard of mirror, and a burnt and broken gold locket. There was also a letter Lily had once written to Sirius during the dark year they had hidden away from Voldemort in fear that he would kill them because of the prophecy.

"Well, I always had this feeling that it was Harry who raided Grimmauld Place…" Sirius said. He gave Lily the letter again.

She perused through it. "Funny, I don't ever remember writing this. But it was a long time ago."

"The mirror…" Remus held the sharp jagged piece in his hands. It was the same sort of magical mirror he had used in Hogwarts to communicate with James, Sirius and Peter. Except now, there was no one friendly to communicate with.

"We'll keep that for the Order, in case the Death Eaters try to communicate with Harry." Kingsley nodded.

Dumbledore seemed disinterested in the useless artefacts, except for the Snitch, which he held up to light, and the broken locket, which he caressed in the palm of his hand.

Remus stood up, told everyone he needed a bit of fresh air, and slipped out of the house. He was itching to see if James was all right.

He travelled through a thicket of brambles in the backyard and past a wild bush of roses. Its thorns were snagging at his robes and scratching his hands. There was an old wooden fence and gate. He opened it, and there laid out in front of him was a small cobbled path, covered with thousands of clovers. He followed the winding path, past trees that looked as though they had been there for centuries, their gnarled roots creating homes for many fairies. They were inquisitive this evening and had come out to witness him walking by. Gnomes nearby were ripping up shrubs; they turned around and grunted at his approach.

This had been Charlie's favourite part of the yard.

Remus ignored the magical creatures until he finally discovered what he had been searching for. Behind an enormous yew tree lay the private burial plot of his godson. There upon the white marble tombstone read:

_Here lies_

_Charlie Ignotus Potter_

_Born: 4-6-1982_

_Death: 2-6-1997_

_Taken by the blow of evil_

_Forever innocent in a world of darkness_

The fresh flowers by his tombstone signified that his parents changed them everyday.

Charlie was a boy of a studious nature. He had been a stocky child, with black hair and hazel eyes. He was a quiet boy, but he enjoyed the company of his family. He loved the wonders of nature and studied magical creatures with zeal and was Luna Lovegood best friend. They would often explore Hogwarts in search of them.

Staring at the marble tombstone was James. Remus stood beside him, shoulder to shoulder, hearing his friend sniffle.

"What?" James snapped.

"I want to see if you're—"

"Leave."

Remus turned around and was about to sit down on a wooden bench when he heard him speaking.

"He was studying to become an Animagus…"

"Yes." Remus smiled. He knew that James would've thought this one of his proudest moments of being a parent.

"I asked him to keep it secret. But I knew he was going to tell you eventually."

"He couldn't wait to show me." He smiled sadly.

"Out of all the kids, Charlie was the least like me and Lily, you know. But when he asked me how to become one, I was over the moon. He was the first and only one to ask me about it."

Even from metres away, Remus could see the tears glistening on James's eyes now.

"He—he almost got it right. He was almost a fully formed boar. I even dreamt of galloping through Godric's Hollow as Prongs, with his son Hogs by his side."

" _Hogs_ …" Remus repeated in a whisper, remembering the animal with a big wet snout and sharp tasks.

"Harry… Harry never asked. I always thought he would."

It was the first time James had spoken again about him like the lost son he was, not like some despised murderer.

"Harry looks like me the most, but he was Lily's," James touched his heart. "I had so much hope for him. He had so much potential. He was powerful in defence… he wanted to fight them. We fought to let him go. Lily desperately clung to him—to protect him, but he was determined to fulfil his part of the prophecy and we couldn't stop him. So why would he turn his back on us? Was it because he was cursed being a Mage? We should've had snuffed it out of him as a child when we discovered it." There was a deep, desperate longing in his voice.

"James, you can't stop a person being who they truly are—"

"He was such a good kid. He even cared about the bloody house elves being tortured! I just don't understand. _Why_?"

Remus ached so much for him. "Nobody understands."

Then James broke down.

He walked up to the grieving father and laid a hand on his back. He wanted to make it all better, but Remus was only a humble wizard.

"Charlie would've wanted you to move forward, not dwell in the past and dreams that could've been."

James blinked at the tombstone, swatting away a fallen leaf on the marble. "You're right. I feel so disgusted that I did that to Harry. I-I just snapped. There was so much anger, so much hurt and… and I felt that words wouldn't have been enough," he sobbed.

"I know… Let's go back in."

James sighed, wiped his tears and nodded.

They joined the Order meeting, now brimming with more members, and ignored the glare from Lily and the worried glance from Sirius. Dumbledore merely flicked his gaze upon them, before they continued their discussion on the other missing Death Eaters, and how to interrogate Harry.

Meanwhile, they were all unaware that there was someone outside the kitchen, silently opening the basement door.

* * *

_Tap, tap, tap…_

Harry groaned. _Leave me alone,_ he thought. He just wanted peace and a nice dream.

_Tap… tap._

"No." His hand moved through the still air. He wasn't counting on actually hitting something.

A muffled, _"ow!"_ reverberated quietly somewhere in the void.

He opened his eyes to darkness and silence. He coughed and splattered, rolling onto his side.

"Are you awake?"

He jolted when something—a tiny hand perhaps—touched his shoulder, fumbling a bit in the process.

"Harry…" The voice was familiar.

He relaxed, though still breathing in huge gulps.

"Its m-me, Jessica." She sounded scared. Scared of him. Maybe even frightened of being caught fraternizing with him. What would James do if he found out? Everyone seen with him was an enemy; he knew his Mirror father would think that way after experiencing first hand what his vengeance was like.

"Why—?" he coughed. "Why did you come in here?" He licked his parched lips, trying to pinpoint where the little girl's face was. He didn't like the dark, not when he was a captive.

"I w-wanted—I always believed you'd see me again."

"You shouldn't be here," Harry wheezed.

"I'm sorry for Daddy hurting you. I didn't mean to tell him."

Harry pulled back a little when her cold hand touched his face. Her hand sprung away.

"D-Dumbledore is upstairs. I hate Order meetings… I hate our brothers. They're always playing tricks on me now. I wished you never went to Azkaban."

For Harry, listening to this little girl pour out her heart to him like a cherished doll, made him feel terribly awkward.

"Why are you telling me this?"

Jessica sniffled for a moment. Her hand was back, now pulling on his long hair.

"I've missed you. You are the only one in this family who likes me. Mummy and Daddy are too busy all the time with the war... and they're always fighting. It's worse now since Charlie died. Mike and Chris used to prank Charlie… remember that?"

"Maybe."

"They never bothered with you, because you were the oldest and really good at spells. You've got good reflexes. That's what Daddy used to say when he talked about Quidditch."

Harry noticed how monotone her voice was. There was something peculiar with the little girl, but he couldn't put his finger on it. In the end, he realised, she was suffering from her trauma.

"Daddy was really disappointed when you resigned from your Seeker position on the Gryffindor Quidditch team."

"I did?" The words escaped him before he could stop them.

"Daddy wrote you a Howler in your third year, remember? He said you shamed him and demanded you go straight back to Oliver Wood and beg for the position back."

"Really?" He realised that his father was a bigger arse than he had imagined. "Jessica, why did I resign?"

"Some say it was because you were training to be a Death Eater. Still, your reply was funny."

"What did I say?"

"You said that there were bigger things to worry about than a game and said that if Daddy really wanted a Seeker, you were happy to play the position when you got home. The letter had a curse in it, and it turned Daddy into a giant Snitch. It was so funny. Even Daddy laughed after he turned back to normal. But I remember Daddy saying that magic was very powerful…"

Harry thought about the magic his Mirror had used. Even at thirteen he had displayed signs of great power. He himself had mastered the Patronus Charm at that age, but he wasn't that talented with transfiguration then.

The little girl stopped speaking, but Harry had many more questions.

"What was Charlie like? I—I can't remember, you see."

"Charlie was always in his books. He used to hug me tight and tickle me. But Chris and Mike pranked him all the time. He didn't like that much. Now it's only me. They play jokes on me. I don't like that…"

"I think they're just trying to make you smile. There's no harm in that."

"I don't like it…" she repeated. "I could curse them. But I've been very good, Harry, like you told me to. I haven't forgotten your words, remember?"

She was pulling his hair hard, almost tearing it from his scalp.

"Jessica…" This randomly intriguing conversation was turning a little too scary for him. Harry pulled her fingers from his hair.

A bright light suddenly blinded him. The girl held a lit wand to her side. Harry backed away. Was this her vengeance now? He had already suffered his father's.

"How do you…?" He couldn't understand how a little girl knew so much magic. Would the Ministry of Magic swoop down and punish her?

"Remus and Sirius have been teaching us magic, don't you remember? The Ministry dropped the age again after Hogwarts closed so children over five are all taught at home. Sometimes we learn in groups with other kids from the Order. We have to… It's to prepare us for the bad things out there… I train with Timothy Bracken from up the road."

"Tell me more."

"You really don't remember much, do you?" Jessica said slowly, sucking in air between her large front teeth.

He could see her face now, almost that of a ghost's, all white, and her eyes reflected his face like a mirror. She reminded him of the Grey Lady who stalked the castle late at night. She was always sobbing, but her eerie sounds and monotone words stuck to the walls like moss.

"Did they do really nasty things to you in Azkaban?"

"Yes," he guessed.

"Mummy and Daddy won't talk to me about it. But I heard stuff. I sometimes listen to them talking."

"Like what?"

She shrugged in the light of the wand without a single blink.

"I heard that the Aurors are very bad. And the Atoners are the worst part of it all."

_"Atoners?"_

Jessica blinked at him. "You should know who they are."

"No, I don't. I'm from another world," he finally said.

She smiled. "No, you're not! I'm not stupid. You're _my_ Harry. I've heard people say you're crazy."

Harry was a little unnerved by such confidence in her statement. "Sorry, Jessica…" He decided to keep up the charade. "Tell me what you know about the Atoners…"

"Sirius said they're a second class of Aurors. They are criminals working for _Umberige_ … very bad people, who, instead of going to prison, made a deal with the Ministry to keep the worst prisoners scared."

Harry scowled at the thought of Umbridge having a tight hold on power here.

"Harry did you see child prisoners in Azkaban?"

"No…" Harry shrugged.

"Dumbledore doesn't like that You-Know-Who's child soldiers are kept there… he's had several fights with the Minister about it."

Harry did not like the sound of this world one bit. He swallowed the bitter taste in his mouth.

Then she sighed. "I missed you so much."

"Me too," Harry gulped.

"Do you remember that picnic when we played in the woods at the end of Godric's Hollow? Mummy and Daddy weren't fighting or calling each other awful names! Charlie was alive and you were there. We played football and then I got bored and got lost in the woods…" She sighed. "I thought I'd never go home… never see you all again.

"But you found me, Harry, and you smiled. That was the last time you smiled. You took me back home. You never let go of my hand..."

Tears began to glisten in her pale eyes. "Mummy and Daddy fight and cry all the time. Then Mummy always tests my hair every day, but she won't tell me why. She always looks scared to be with me after she does it. I can't see well, but I still see. Why does she test my hair, Harry? She started doing it after Hogwarts closed. Is there something else wrong with me? Is it the black that smells of death?"

_…The black that smells of death?_ "I don't know," answered Harry, a bit concerned for her now.

"You always tell me you don't know, but I know you do," she sniffled.

He watched the little girl blink slowly, tongue running over her large teeth.

"Jessica, Mum and Dad love you very much. Mum is just doing that to make sure that you're okay."

"You… you think so?"

Harry nodded.

"But—but they don't love you. They hate you. Everyone does."

"I did something very bad. But they love you very much," he repeated.

Those words had an effect on Jessica, more than Harry could've imagined. She seemed to relax, her ghostly complexion warming a little.

"I'm sorry, Harry, for everything. I'll continue to be good when you're gone."

This was it, he thought suddenly. All the thoughts of the little girl vanished and in came the possibility of dying or being injured. He wasn't sure how experienced in spells the girl was. And in any case, what could she do?

Instead, Jessica dropped the lit wand by his side and stood up carefully, hands feeling the wall so she could balance properly.

"I saved your wand. Mummy kept it hidden from everyone. You better go…"

"I can't just go. I need to speak to Dumbledore!"

"They will hurt you, Harry," she warned. "Dumbledore _will_ make you talk… he doesn't like being lied to.

"I can show him my mind."

Jessica shook her head sadly. "It won't matter. Harry, Dumbledore will never trust what you show him. You hide your secrets. They'll lock you away again."

She disappeared up the stairs, leaving the door open a touch so a streak of light showed through.

Harry's heart was beating so hard it was in danger of blasting out of his chest and bouncing onto the dusty floor. She had left a wand for him. He could free himself and run. But where would he go? That would be something he'd have to put aside for now. He didn't know this world's Dumbledore, and for all he knew, he could be hostile.

Harry's shaking hand reached out for the wand. As soon as he had touched it a strange buzz radiated from his fingertips, filling his entire body. It was like electricity rippling through him, but it made him feel pleasant. He let out a small gasp. The wand connected with him and he was connected to it.

The wand was made of yew. And he instinctively knew it was a Yew and Phoenix feather wand.

Horror-struck, he dropped it, realising where he'd seen a wand just like it before. The question was: why was it _his_ wand?

Harry quickly Disillusioned himself and quietly left, taking a moment to linger near the closed kitchen door, imagining his mother's face.

* * *

"It's settled then," Dumbledore said.

"I still don't think this is right," James said out loud, playing with his glass of Firewhiskey. The ice within it had already melted. He felt so uneasy.

"James, we need to decipher where the boy's loyalties lie and time to examine his agenda. We never had the opportunity."

"Still a waste of time," said Sirius, crossing his arms as he rocked back on his chair. "He was uncooperative in Azkaban, so there's no way he'll start talking now—"

"Yeah, not unless we torture him," Tonks said. "I've been taught a few good spells at work. Head Auror MacCloud is forcing us to learn them."

"Nymphadora, that technique will only be used as our final resort." Dumbledore wasn't impressed as he darkly glared at her.

"It won't work on him anyways," said Sirius. "Besides he sounds a bit mental now. I'd be too, if I was stuck in Azkaban with that mob."

Dumbledore nodded. "It's plausible that he's been damaged whilst in Azkaban. If he is broken, we may shape him into a good man again."

"Good? After all he did?" James scraped his chair back, pointing his finger towards a happy portrait of Charlie sitting on top of a cabinet. The black-haired boy waved to them all. Wisdom twinkled in his hazel eyes.

Charlie had had the worst sense of humour of all in the family. Even though he was the least like his parents, the boy was more like his grandfather Harry, who had been a portly man with the trademark knobbly knees of the Potters. Harry had had an immense library of old books in his house, all musty and worn out from being reread hundreds of times.

He died when James was young, though he could still remember sitting on his lap, listening to the rosy-cheeked old man read him the story of the Deathly Hallows and other tales. He remembered the perfectly trimmed white walrus moustache, with only a hint of black still in it. His hair was completely white and stuck up at odd angles.

Dumbledore didn't blink. "We'll never forget."

Professor Flitwick tapped his fingers on his chin. "But, what if what Harry says is true? What if he _is_ a Mirror Harry Potter? Do you want to condemn an innocent boy?"

"It's so rare it's ludicrous to even suggest that we believe this story. It's just as silly as alien abductions are to Muggles," Arthur pointed out, patting his shiny forehead with a serviette. James wholly agreed with him.

"I think they broke him," Bill added. "It's so unlikely that anyone could travel into a Mirror Universe… one in a thousand years, maybe. There's no recorded history of it, only stories from around the world. You should know—"

"But such travel is possible! Why else would Ministries outlaw it?" squeaked Flitwick. "I have heard of one legend that happened here."

"Yeah? I don't remember learning about it," James retorted.

"Well that's because it is a legend mostly only Ravenclaws know of and fiercely protected, like a smug little secret. Rowena Ravenclaw liked to experiment with Mirror travel in a cave, somewhere in the Highlands. No one has ever found it though, from memory."

"Hang on," Remus interrupted, "Harry said he was looking for a diadem in cave before he was transported here. What if it was _that_ cave—?"

"A diadem?" blurted Flitwick. "Ravenclaw had a diadem as well—"

"Stop and listen to me, all of you." Dumbledore held his hand up and regarded them all carefully. "Harry is a very resourceful, intelligent and dangerous boy. He knows how to thwart us."

"I'm surprised he wasn't put in Slytherin then," Sirius added.

"Would you be shocked, if I said the Sorting Hat almost placed him there? But the Hat also said he would've done well in the other houses too." Dumbledore sighed. "I'm afraid I did train him in the arts of manipulation, and to seduce with lies. I also trained him to investigate as an Auror would. He knew about this legend because I told him… I told him of many others about the Hogwarts founders, and it seems he has used this particular story to great effect this evening."

James ran a finger on the rim of his cold glass, wondering how legends of the founders would be useful in the war. He knew there was so much Dumbledore wasn't telling them about Harry. James wished he had been more totalitarian in getting his son to spill the truth about what he was doing with Dumbledore.

A clock chimed somewhere within the house as Flitwick sneezed loudly. Dumbledore placed the book which Harry had brought with him carefully beneath the table and onto his lap.

"I am sure the boy has made this story up to gain our sympathy. Two plausible theories I reinstate to you all: One, this may be Voldemort's plan for the boy to attack us as we help him. Or two, Harry has genuinely become unstable, and this story of Mirror travel is a figment of his broken mind."

Kingsley agreed. "Harry's not mentally well. In the last few reports, he has been attacking prisoners and graffiting his cell with blood."

"Oh God!" Lily whispered, suddenly gripping James's arm.

"Prisoners have died from injuries. Others have gone completely insane. In the most recent example, Umbridge—"

"Kingsley, don't say anymore. I don't… I don't want to know what they've done to him," Lily said.

"But they deserve what they get," Sirius spat, locking eyes with James.

"Do you really believe that?" Remus asked. "When the Aurors and Atoners act like Death Eaters then they're no better themselves. That goes for the Order too." Remus shot Tonks a reproachful look. But she still looked unfazed about using torture, in James's opinion.

"Being on our side doesn't make them right in whatever action they choose fit. Otherwise there's no difference between good and evil," Dumbledore said.

"Yes." Kingsley said gloomily. "I've seen some of my men change, especially the new Aurors. They want to do good, protect people, serve out justice. Then they slowly change once they've seen the corruption and evil within the Ministry. They bribe, torture and blackmail and have even killed in cold blood. We can't even question it, unless we want to end up in Azkaban."

"It was only a suggestion," griped Tonks. James saw her hair turning mousey brown.

Kingsley bowed his head. The Auror was one of a few wizards in the Order still firmly rooted within the Ministry. However, there were many others still working at the Ministry that sympathised with Dumbledore and had not braved themselves to take the Order's oath.

Dumbledore clasped his hands. "So we will question him, hopefully without drastic measures, and then hand him over to the Aurors of Nurmengard."

The rest who had joined for the meeting agreed.

"For now, let him rest." The headmaster got up, a sign that the meeting had ending and everyone burst into conversation amongst themselves.

"James." Dumbledore placed a sympathetic hand on his shoulder, steering him away from the small group. "I'm worried about you. It's a shock, I know, seeing Harry back."

James nodded. He was hot-headed and reacted too fast, but he didn't want to dwell on what he had done. "Albus, what if we can't open that book because Harry is hiding something in it?"

"I'm going to investigate that and the stolen wand too."

"Albus, are we sure that this boy isn't a Mirror?"

"Quite sure. Many people in Azkaban have lost their minds. I knew one who thought she was Cleopatra reincarnated."

He thought Dumbledore was right as James had the sudden urge to sneeze, but that vanished when they noticed the basement door was wide open and whipped their wands out. As James's brain started functioning again, Kingsley brushed past him, bolting halfway down the stairs. The room was completely empty. No Harry anywhere.

 


	5. Fugitives

The strange clock with the names of the Weasley family on its face _tick-tocked_ innocently. However, all the Weasleys' names were pointed towards the words, _mortal peril,_ even though many were sitting quietly, and safe in the living room with Michael Potter and his brother Christopher.

Ginny and Ron were laid out on the carpet playing wizard chess. Twin brothers Fred and George were experimenting on a new joke item for their Double Trouble Weasleys mail order. Bill had recently returned from Egypt, working for Gringotts, He brought over his wife, Wadid, home with him. They sat in the kitchen with their twin baby girls, Miriam and Sarah. Both babies giggled and squealed as they played with their parents, unaware of the gloomy mood around them.

Mrs Weasley busied herself by cleaning everything in the house thrice. Mr Weasley, Charlie and Percy had not returned yet, making her rather waspish to everyone, especially after her messages remained unanswered.

The Potter boys had darker hair than the Weasleys. Michael was the tallest and he looked more like their father. He wore oval rimmed glasses that were always smudged, and his hair stuck up at the back. He blinked, trying to keep his tired eyes open. His arm was leisurely pulled over the side of the couch, fingers tearing a hole in the fabric. He took a moment to gaze at his little brother, who was now falling asleep.

Christopher didn't wear glasses, but his hair was completely untameable. He had attributes from both their parents and was extremely freckly.

"You alright there, Chris?" Michael smacked his brother awake.

Startled, the younger boy woke and looked for danger. "WHAT?"

"Mike, was that necessary?" Ginny said reproachfully. Ron merely snorted as he moved his pawn a square.

Christopher crinkled his freckly nose. "Scrawny prat!"

Michael stifled a yawn. "Are you alright?" he repeated in a whisper.

The younger brother shrugged.

Michael knew that whenever Christopher was worried he would grow quiet and withdrawn. Normally the twelve-year-old was funny and a happy-go-lucky sort of boy. They would always plan adventures together and prank anyone they met. In fact, they would often have bets with the Weasley twins, always yearning to outsmart them.

Michael, Chris and their father had been on a hiking trip on the Alps when they had found out that Harry had broken into their home. Immediately, their father uprooted them and took them straight to the Weasleys while he handled the situation.

"I hate not knowing, you know," the younger boy whispered, scratching his head.

Michael nodded in agreement. They weren't the sort to sit back and let the news come their way.

Everything had been going great until this happened.

Recently, Christopher had almost been abducted by a band of Death Eaters prowling Godric's Hollow. Their parents thought it would be good for them to get away from England for a bit and do something Muggle-ish.

So, for six weeks they were enjoying their holiday without their mum and sister. They had enjoyed seeing the sun for the very first time in Thailand, then Fiji, and getting so burnt they almost glowed red. They explored and learned about the ancient magical cults in Greece and Italy, and had been camping in the Alps for the last two days.

For a while, they experienced no fear. They felt so free… so happy. It had been wonderful seeing the blue sky and the sun, the moon and the stars. England was rife with the Dementor mist. Many children had been born since the mist started without ever seeing the sky.

Now they were back home.

"I can't believe he escaped!" Michael said out loud, his hands scrunching into fists. If he ever saw Harry again, he'd kill him. He wasn't as powerful as his eldest brother, but Ginny taught him a wicked Bat Bogey Hex that'd drive him off a window ledge.

"Me neither," Ron sighed. "How the hell did he get out?"

"Umbridge is Warden of Azkaban," Fred called over, "she's probably got Harry doing lap dances for her, and he found a way out of her office."

"Don't joke about Umbridge!" Ron scowled at him.

Fred shrugged. "Eh, it's just a story I heard."

"Did you hear that's she's become Senior Undersectary since the resignation of Barty Crouch Senior?" George asked.

"Oh," Christopher replied curiously. "Why did he—?"

"'Bout a month before you guys left, Umbridge wasn't happy that the father of a big name Death Eater had held a major position for so long. Besides he was going a bit loopy. Percy thinks he was being poisoned."

"I bet it was Umbridge poisoning him," Bill added.

"I think power has gotten to her head," Ginny looked up. "How many titles can this woman hold? Is she still heading the Interrogation and the Prevention of Crime and Sedition Department?"

Ron nodded. "Yeah, and if Auror Thomas MacCloud isn't careful, she'd take over his job too."

"Nah, that wouldn't happen. MacCloud is smart, merciless, and just as cruel as she is. The two of them are meant for each other." Fred made a disgusting kissing gesture.

Michael shuddered to think of the sadistic monster babies the two of them could make. "At this rate, Umbridge could be Minister one day."

 _"Shhhhh!"_ Ron spat at him.

"What?"

"Soon, any conversations against the Minister will become Taboo."

"I hate to think of the Aurors busting into The Burrow and arresting us because we don't like the big bad Minister."

Ron shook a chess piece at her. "We also thought a lot of other fucked up stuff wouldn't happen."

"It won't happen." Ginny stood up from the chess game and stretched. "I'm sick of playing. You've won anyway."

"When have I lost?"

She rolled her eyes, before looking over Michael's way and catching his eye. Ginny was pretty good looking and he knew Harry had once had a crush on her, though she had rejected his advances quite a few times. This gave Michael great satisfaction. _Good sense, that girl,_ he thought.

He liked her brown eyes and her soft curves. Most of all, Michael liked it when her long red hair flowed behind her. He wouldn't dare throw his advances toward her or try anything, though; not when Ron Weasley would be ready to pounce on any male attempting to whisk his sister away. Besides, he was too young for her. He could only dream…

Ron was taller than Michael could possibly ever imagine being. The tall Weasley nearly reached the top of the doorway.

Ron knew Harry the best. Harry's betrayal had hit him the hardest within the Weasley clan. Ron couldn't believe that his best friend had been keeping such a devastating secret of being in league with the Dark Lord.

In the past, the only time the Weasley and Potter kids didn't see much of each other had been during their primary school years. While the Weasleys had been schooled at home, the Potter children had attended the local primary school, secretly protected with magic. The Weasleys were always interested in the Muggle things, and Michael and Chris were happy to oblige and teach them.

"Right, you lot," Mrs Weasley said as she walked into the room, charming a large tray filled with cups of tea and scones to hover in front of her.

Bill and his wife walked in behind. Wadid, a Curse Breaker just like Bill, was an olive-skinned witch with brown almond-shaped eyes. Her thick hair was dark and held back with a blue sash. She held onto Sarah, while Bill held onto Miriam. Both children were now sleeping, cradled in their parents' arms. The little family sat down next to Michael.

"They're bad sleepers," Wadid spoke in her thick Egyptian accent, as Sarah began to wake. Her big blue eyes scanned the room, before deciding to close them again.

"They know something's up," Bill said, rocking Miriam asleep.

"Yes, well, let's have some tea and call it a night." Mrs. Weasley poured the tea. "Alright, dears?" She turned towards Michael and Chris, passing them a cup each.

"Yes, Mrs Weasley," both boys replied monotonously. Both pushed their fingers through their hair in frustration.

Fred suddenly pointed. "You see there, George, you'd almost think they were twins."

George looked up and did a double-take, "I always thought they were!"

"So naïve!"

"Shut up," Chris said quietly, sipping his tea.

"Oh, the poor Ickle Fur Ball—"

"Quiet all of you!" Mrs Weasley snapped, at the end of her tether. Sarah and Miriam woke and began to cry.

Mrs Weasley was a plump, kind-hearted woman who was very motherly to everyone. Michael liked Mrs. Weasley for her cooking. His own mum tended to overcook sometimes so that the kitchen always smelt like something was burning, even when there wasn't anything cooking on the stove. But he did find Mrs Weasley to be overly fussy.

"How long do you think the Order will keep Harry?" Ginny asked.

Mrs Weasley straightened up; she looked a little reluctant to say anything at first. "I don't know much. It's best to ask your father when he arrives." Mrs Weasley glared at her daughter before suddenly changing the subject. "Boys, you'll be sleeping here tonight, just to be on the safe side. You can bunk in Bill's room."

"But Mum," the twins protested, "they can sleep in our—"

"I want everyone to sleep soundly. No more discussion about the war!"

The Potter boys bade good night to the Weasleys and headed off to bed.

"I wish they'd tell us something," Chris said as he pulled off his shoes, jumping into bed. "Just because we're kids doesn't mean we should be kept in the dark. I mean, is it so hard for them to Floo us a simple message?"

"Yeah." Michael summoned a cot out of a cupboard. He flicked his wand at a pile of linen to make it fly. They only fell into a heap onto the bed. He attempted some hospital corners, but gave up on his second try.

Chris watched on. "You're great with joke spells, but you suck at household stuff."

 _"Git."_ Michael flung himself onto the springy cot, throwing the blankets over himself.

"How do you reckon the Newt is coping?"

Michael sighed. "I don't know. I spoke to Jess last week... she keeps talking about Harry and cats, and about some weird black thing."

Jessica had once been a curious little sister, always following Harry around and occasionally Charlie as well. She loved to laugh and play with her dolls and pretend she was the greatest Auror in the world. Now, since the incident, she would stare at the wall with her white eyes, playing with her hair. She spoke in a way that made Michael so uncomfortable to be around her. She seemed so lost and so distant.

A dark thought crept into Michael's mind. "I hope Harry hasn't hurt anyone. _Shit,_ if I ever see him again, I'm prepared."

"You'll be dead the second you lift your w-wand," yawned Chris.

Michael was fourteen and knew quite a bit when it came to defence. Though his parents thought he needed to learn more. He only had a couple of more years before he'd be allowed to join the Order and fight.

Michael whipped out his wand from his trouser pocket, placing it underneath his pillow. They were always vigilant, just as Mad-Eye Moody had taught them before he had met a gruesome end at the hands of a Death Eater on New Years Eve. He morbidly wondered where Death Eater Olive Dreadford had tattooed his name on her body. She did that after every kill, and was a part of Voldemort's small elite group of the deadliest, sadistic and abominable Death Eaters who were known as the Notorious Thirteen. Many children these thirteen Death Eaters conditioned died horrifically. The stories about them gave Michael nightmares when he was younger. Particularly Dreadford, who had been conditioned herself.

He fell asleep instantly, though his dreams were very troubled indeed, filled with green lights and Dreadford carving Harry's name on Michael's face.

"Michael, Christopher, wake up."

Opening his eyes, Michael saw a stream of bright light through the curtains. There was an annoying sparrow twittering outside. How could it be morning already when it felt as though he had only gone to sleep a minute ago? He saw his father's face swimming above him. "Dad?"

"Let's go."

Michael popped his glasses on and propped himself up. Chris was already pulling himself out of bed. "What happened? Where's Harry? Did anyone get hurt? And Mum and Jess?"

Their father sat down on the edge of the bed. His hair seemed to droop today. "He's…"

"You have him right?" piped up Christopher.

"Yes," James hesitated, ruffling his youngest son's hair, "and no. He escaped."

"What?" Michael yelled.

"Did any—?"

"No one got hurt," James quickly added. "He disappeared silently."

"Was he there to kill us?" Chris asked

"Maybe. Come on, we're going home now. Everything's secured."

"But how did he escape—?" Chris started.

"Let's go home. Some questions I just don't have answers for." He got up and left the boys to get dressed.

Michael was mad, but relieved. How the hell could his brother escape from home?

* * *

When Harry woke up, there were a few things which bothered him. For one, he wondered why he was sleeping inside a dark, damp cave. Shouldn't he be asleep in a tent with his friends? Second of all, his ankle was stiff and swollen.

Then of course, he remembered as he looked around and listened vaguely to water droplets falling nearby.

He had escaped, sprained his ankle in the process and even with the risk of being Splinched, Apparated out of Godric's Hollow, after suddenly getting the urge to go to a cave in the Wiltshire region. He thought it was odd, as it wasn't a place he'd ever think of going to, but he didn't care as long as he was safe.

He tested his ankle, prodding it with his wand so the swelling would subside again. He didn't know how long he could go on with his injury and wished he had taught himself some proper healing spells _._

To his side, he located the branch he had used as a crutch. He would wait until dark to travel again and find a new place to hide, and decide how to approach Dumbledore.

As the dark silence of the cave pressed in on him, Harry decided to have a closer inspection of the wand. The wood was smooth and well polished. He ran the facts inside his head: Yew and Phoenix feather. Voldemort's wand was thirteen and a half inches long. It was exactly the same. But it still troubled him that he had _his_ wand.

A rock fell somewhere in the cave. Harry heard a noise that sounded like fabric rustling. "Who's there?"

He saw the outline of a figure camouflaged to look like the rocky wall. "Show yourself. I know you're there."

The figure stepped forward and the spell disappeared, like they had poured a bucket of water over their head to wash the charm away. The pallid, thin face of his Mirror stood in front of him.

Mirror Harry Potter was emaciated, wearing a rugged grey tunic, and his hair was long and dirty. It was much longer than Harry's. They were also exactly the same height. This world's Harry did not wear glasses, and his green eyes shone darkly.

Harry gaped, gripping the wall in shock and disbelief, all thoughts on his ankle in the back of his head now.

"Well, this is interesting," the boy said, an eyebrow disappearing beneath his fringe. He scanned every inch of Harry. The Death Eater did not attempt to hide his curiosity.


	6. Mirror Image

 

**Mirror Image**

"Who are you?"

"I was just about to ask the exact same thing," Mirror Harry said.

As Harry raised his wand, the other boy froze. Then his mouth curved into a malicious smile.

"That's my wand. Why do you have my wand?" His voice was smooth and polite like a bully asking a child for a sweet, one hand ready to snatch it out of their hands if they refused.

"Someone gave it to me," Harry replied, gripping it tighter.

The Mirror swept his long, matted hair from his face, surveying the wand with hungry eyes. The boy had grown a sparse, fuzzy beard, and his lips were parched and covered with sores. The thin frayed tunic he wore hung on his bony shoulders. Harry wondered if the Mirror had ever seen sunshine. He looked like a vampire with his pale, translucent skin. And there were so many scars too.

It felt surreal staring at him and it was startling, because it dictated how his life could've been, if fate had changed just a few little things. They looked exactly alike, right down to their long period of starvation and ruggedness. Yet there was something sinister about the Mirror.

"So, who are you?" the Mirror asked this time.

Harry didn't answer.

"You're either a very badly Polyjuiced Auror or a very stupid Order member. So which one are you?"

"How did you escape?" Harry questioned.

The Mirror shrugged as he held an unblinking stare. If Harry was correct, his Mirror was trying to see inside his head for answers, so he doubled his efforts with Occlumency even though he was very bad at it. What surprised him in that instant was how easy it was to implement Occlumency. For the very first time, it had really worked. He was shocked.

"Ah well, not as stupid as I thought," the Mirror said, looking away. He sat down on a rock, a slight look of pain resting on his face as he stretched his back and arms.

Harry watched him, wondering what was going to happen.

"Very interesting…" the Mirror pondered. "You still haven't answered my questions."

"Neither have you."  

"Well, I'm Harry Potter," Mirror Harry drawled, rolling his eyes. "Almost every wizard, witch, being and creature has heard of me."

_No differences there…_ "All for the wrong reasons, I presume."

The Mirror snorted. "And you? You look… exactly like me, except you seem weaker, and you're wearing glasses. I haven't worn glasses for awhile," he added. "A very good disguise, nonetheless, I like the head scar by the way, nice touch. Makes me look more pathetic really—"

"What? No," Harry said, smoothing down his fringe. He was a little put off by the description of himself. "No, I'm not a Polyjuiced wizard. I'm not anyone in disguise. I'm me! I'm from…"

The boy raised an eyebrow. "If you look just like me–then who are you?" He took a moment to think, an expression of interest and disbelief washing over his face. "You're me from another— another world, a Mirror Universe, aren't you? You are a Mirror of me and I of you! Very rare! This is insane!" There was excitement in his worn features.

Harry felt a sense of foreboding. This Mirror was so decrepit looking, indecent, with a sense of apathy and Dark power. Somehow this intrigued him.

"Oh, come on!" The Mirror smiled, revealing a missing tooth. "Were you sent here deliberately by someone? Bet you it was that old fool."

Harry winced. Every time he thought of Dumbledore, he felt a pang of grief and anger.

"Hmmm, perhaps not," Mirror Harry thought out loud. "No. We can't pluck a person from another dimension into our own. You are usually pushed out by a magical force in your own world."

His tone and knowledge reminded Harry of Hermione.

"… And accidents are possible, but highly unlikely. It's very difficult to create a doorway between worlds, even by accident."

Harry's stomach made an unpleasant jolt. If that was the case, then Rowena Ravenclaw had been a truly gifted witch. The question now: how was he going to get back?

"So, Mirror, what's your opinion then?"

Harry narrowed his eyes and contemplated the fact that Rowena Ravenclaw had created many portals with the books he had used to see into Mirror Worlds. He remembered that there were many floating around, but only one had gravitated towards him. Perhaps like a wand, the Mirror World had chosen him. Harry suddenly wondered if Ravenclaw was laughing in her grave, as she purposely sent unsuspecting, curious visitors into other worlds never to return. Had it been her little trap, or was it a way for Ravenclaw to allow people to explore other possibilities of fate?

"If you don't answer, I can make you." Mirror Harry stood up to full height, an air of impatience in his voice now. "I can hurt you."

"Just like you hurt Jessica and Charlie?" Harry's fingers tightened around his wand. An eerie familiarity prompted Harry to think that this person was like Tom Riddle.

"Don't you ever talk about them!"

"Why, does it bring back bad memories?" He made up his mind on the spot; this boy was as evil as they talked about. He felt ashamed and disgusted that this could have been him.

"I don't like you very much," the Mirror sighed, almost like he was bored, his eyes still on the wand. "And I want my wand back."

"Why should I give it to you?" Harry held back his panic. "I thought you were a Mage, or has Azkaban—"

"ENOUGH! DON'T TALK ABOUT THAT PLACE!" The boy was breathing heavily now, hands curled into fists as he looked back and forth between Harry and the wand. "You leave that place out of this conversation."

"Oh, did they hurt you? Well, guess what, you aren't getting your wand back."

Mirror Harry's Adam's apple bobbed up and down as he silently laughed. "You're a weakling. You are nothing like me, Harry. I followed you here last night."

"Followed me? Where were—Oh you were waiting at your house," Harry spat. "You were going to kill your family." He felt sick.

"Maybe, maybe not." The boy sneered. "You looked deadly fascinating, but you're not so interesting anymore. You're a nobody here."

"At least I'm not a murderer."

Out of nowhere, a strong wind swirled around the Mirror, his power sparking like electricity. But before Harry could even flick his wand, a Protego shield ignited, enclosing him in a protective golden sphere.

"What the—?" the Mirror said in surprise.

_Stupefy,_ Harry thought savagely, a little stunned with the Protego shield that he had conjured without the wand. It had happened with a mere thought, like instinct. The Death Eater dodged the spell, Disapparating on the spot and appearing right behind Harry.

Before Harry could return fire he was knocked cleanly off his feet, hitting the other end of the cave where the darkness was thick and the air humid. He lay dizzily on the ground, his ankle in excruciating pain now. He opened his eyes when he heard someone creeping to his side. He could see a pair of dirty feet, the Death Eater's tunic fluttering around raw ankles. The boy knelt down slowly and Harry turned his attention to the untamed face of his Mirror.

"Where are you from? How did it happen?"

Harry ignored these questions, his mind still on his ankle.

"Perhaps… if you tell me… I can help you get back home."

A great shout of laughter escaped Harry's lips. "As if you would really help me! I don't trust anyone here, least of all you."

The Mirror looked slightly taken aback by those words. His look quickly changed as he started getting angry. But before Harry could understand this expression the boy looked away.

"Fine," he clicked his dirty fingers, "I want my wand back. I'll get it off of you even if I have to kill you for it."

"You don't need it!"

"You don't either."

It took a moment to realise what those words meant. Harry thought about this for a second. He had never been able master magic without wands, so why could he now? He wasn't a Mage. Nevertheless, it wasn't something that one would boast about, like being a Parselmouth. Maybe Dumbledore didn't want him to know.

"I feel pity for your lack of knowledge, weakling. So perhaps I should help you a little before you wander around aimlessly, trying to find a way back, before getting killed. It will be fun to watch."

"Should I thank you?"

The Mirror smirked. "You see, Harry, when you enter a different world you begin to change into your Mirrored self the longer you stay. It's sometimes for the better, but usually for the worse. You develop new skills you never knew you had, and maybe even lose some. I'm you and you're me when we're in the same place."

Horror engulfed Harry. He would never be this other person. He couldn't imagine himself taking on his powers and skills, and, most of all, his evil. But his hunger for answers kept him hooked to the Mirror's words.

"Can I continue, or do you need a moment to regather your senses?"

"Just talk," Harry said through clenched teeth.

"Muggles seem to think we die if we meet our Mirrored self. It's not true; in fact, we begin to feed off each other when we are as close as this. We can become stronger." His dead eyes finally had an inkling of life. "There's only one example of this ever happening in the past, but it's so vague—"

"Who?" Harry blurted out. "Do you know who else?"

"Rowena Ravenclaw. That's all I know."

Harry straightened up. If he knew a little more about it then maybe he could find a way back home. "How did she get back?"

"Obviously, I have no fucking clue!" he snapped. "Didn't I just say that the history is vague? Anyways… you will become like me."

"I'm not _you_ ," Harry said.

The Mirror smirked. "You are now." After a moment of consideration he stood up. "You can keep my wand, Harry. Keep it safe. I don't like people touching my things. You can be the only exception."

This boy was more enigmatic and unpredictable than Harry could've possibly dreamt of being.

"Oh, and" – he turned around, his green eyes darker now. Harry could feel the power seeping off the boy – "keep away from me. If I ever see you again, I won't be so forgiving."

With a small crack the boy disappeared, leaving Harry on his back with a buzz of disbelief at what had just happened. His mind was still reeling.

Mirror Harry was dark, a confirmed Death Eater, yes, but wise, independent and even slightly mad. He was James, Sirius, Hermione and Voldemort mixed into a single entity. And to top that all off, Harry was amazed and a little frightened that he really was a Mage.

Harry suddenly became aware that his ankle wasn't throbbing anymore. He propped himself up and gingerly tested it. Mirror Harry had healed him. What a strange gesture, he thought.

He fell back gently and gazed absent-mindedly at the dark cave ceiling where stalagmites and stalactites were at the point of touching each other. There was a time in the past when he wondered what the differences between the two were, but that was when he was still innocent and ignorant of the world around him.

* * *

The afternoon sun glowed in the Potter's shabby yard as Lily watched from the house. Her two boys were sitting on an old wooden bench discussing yesterday's events.

She could see how differently they both reacted to their brother showing up. They were growing up too fast, she thought. Michael was furious. Lily feared the boy would do something as rash as James would've done in his younger years. Christopher was angry, yet very withdrawn. He hadn't eaten much all day. But Lily worried most of all for Jessica. She lived in her own little world these days.

Her little girl never played with her dolls anymore. She'd sit by the window playing with her hair. Once in a while, the girl would talk to herself as though she was playing with an imaginary friend. Lily had had imaginary friends at that young age, but she'd thrown tea parties in their honour. Jessica didn't. She would stare ahead asking her friend if she liked kittens, and that was all they ever talked about: cats, particularly Harry's own, Mildred, who had died mysteriously.

Christopher's laugh pounded into the house, snapping Lily out of her thoughts. Michael had just thrown a pebble across the yard, hitting a wayward gnome in the face.

The yard was overgrown and weedy, but it was just the way she liked it. She had seen her sister Petunia's lawn and house once before and felt like she didn't belong there. Well, the fact that the Dursleys had looked at her and James with disdain and revulsion added to Lily's dislike for anything perfectly manicured and groomed. No, she liked the yard just the way it was: lovely, natural, and filled with wonders.

When the children were younger it had been a joy watching them play hide and seek in the garden. Sometimes she watched for hours on end from the same window she now watched her boys from. The nooks and crannies of the yard were perfect spots to hide, and Harry was always the best at hiding. It would be dark before Lily would shout for him, telling him he'd miss dinner and dessert and that his brothers, Charlie and baby Michael, were missing him. Skinny little Harry would rush out of a dark, obscure spot, his knobbly knees all skinned and dirty, wearing glasses too big for his face. He would bound up the stairs and hug Lily around her middle, smiling.

"Did you miss me too, Mummy?" He'd ask every time, his green eyes bright and shining with love.

She'd kiss him on his forehead. "Of course I did. You're my special little wizard." Then she'd tickle him and he'd laugh so much that he'd beg for her to stop.

Lily sighed, letting the curtains fall. She wondered from time to time what life would've been like if Charlie was still alive and Harry had not betrayed them. She wondered how normal a child Jessica would be if she were not damaged.

Why had her eldest changed so drastically? What made a once loving and wise child turn? She would've died protecting her baby boy if Voldemort had gone for them instead of the Longbottoms. Lily would've died to give Harry the chance of living a good and humble life.

Never in a million years did she dream of this happening to their family. Now she felt like she was an evil mother for thinking that perhaps, it would've been for the best if Voldemort had gone for Harry, even if it had killed them all.

Voldemort would kill him eventually. That fate awaited him, she knew with dread. The Dark Lord hadn't forgotten the fact that her boy was a part of the prophecy just because little Neville had died. Voldemort lured Harry to the Dark side so he could watch over him closely. _Keep your friends close and your enemies closer_ , they say.

The question now was, how long? How long until another child of hers would be taken? Children were abducted and killed every day in the war. Muggleborn children and adults would be taken to become slaves of Death Eaters, but when would her eldest be killed?

Lily closed her eyes, wishing they were happy and whole, however the truth was all her children were in danger. And keeping them from harm, wrapping them in cotton wool, protecting them as long as possible would never prepare them for the horror out there. They would never survive.

She learnt that the hard way.

They told Dumbledore to wait as long as he could before training Harry. They wanted to give him a happy childhood, despite the world crumbling around him. Then it was his third year when it became too dangerous for him to continue his education at Hogwarts without Dumbledore's mentorship. So with a heavy heart Lily and James gave the old wizard the go ahead.

They decided to trust in Dumbledore and to give their child the best training to defeat the Dark Lord and to be sent on secret missions for the good of the Order. It was his fate… She had cried so much, knowing Harry would soon lose his innocence to war. Lily would've taken his place in a heartbeat. But it was his journey not hers and she was forced to let him go… and then he betrayed them all.

They were lucky that Christopher had been saved by Dumbledore and James two months ago. Christopher and Michael wanted to trick a rude Muggle neighbour of theirs who had said that Jessica was a freak, and had ventured outside the safety of their property. A Death Eater had seen them and called in for help. Her little boy had almost been snatched when a fight ensued. She wondered if Dumbledore hadn't killed the Death Eater, if Christopher would have been conditioned this very moment.

"Hey, Lils," James spoke.

She was glad of the sudden distraction. She wiped away her tears quickly and smiled.

"Hey back."

James and the search party had returned in the early hours of the morning. He had barely had any sleep before they'd resumed the futile search for their son, finally giving up after lunch.

"Remus is tutoring Jessica. He'll call for the boys later on. He says that while we were on holidays they've been slacking on their homework."

"Great, they're like you and Sirius but ten times worse." Lily rolled her eyes.

James clucked. "At least we actually did the work, our sons are slacking! I mean Chris isn't great at duelling, and Michael is more concerned with perfecting the Bat Bogey than anything else."

"We have to sit them down and tell them their failing in defence."

"They're not failing, Lily. They're just not diversifying and thinking outside the box… By the way, I've put dinner on the stove. I'm starving. I was just about ready to eat our neighbour's cat."

This… this conversation almost felt as though everything was back to normal.

Lily felt warm hands rub the nape of her neck, before curling around her shoulders.

"I wish you came with us overseas…" he whispered. "It was safer."

She instantly tensed up. She had not felt his warmth and touch for almost a year. Lily found it strange now. "Jessica needs routine, and taking her on holidays would have been detrimental to her." She shrugged out of his hands and moved away.

"Is everything all right?"

She could tell that James knew that cracks were beginning to appear in their relationship again.

Lily snorted. In truth, nothing was 'all right'. "Harry's wand is missing," she said, repositioning a portrait of Charlie on a shelf. "I thought we hid it well. Why didn't he try to kill us?"

"He isn't stupid. He was planning something." James sighed. "I want to know what Dumbledore is up to, what he'll do, because the boy's more trouble than we thought he was."

"You should ask him."

"Ha! As if I haven't tried already. When we were searching for him, I thought I saw a brief moment of happiness on Dumbledore's face"

"Why would Dumbledore be happy Harry had escaped?" After all, Dumbledore had felt immense betrayal at what the boy had done to their family.

"I'm telling you, Lily, something fishy is going on, and I'm not talking about the trout that I'm baking. Maybe Dumbledore wants to play games with him, who knows! But I believe Dumbledore when he says either Harry is a bit touched in the head or he's lying. Honestly, Mirror Harry? That was a clever lie."

Lily wasn't sure what to think. She had many questions, but she wasn't going to ask Dumbledore. "Hmmm, maybe you've misinterpreted his expression," she said, interested. "I can't imagine what Harry's been through."

"He killed our son in cold blood, Lily!" James snapped. "Justice-"

"Azkaban isn't justice! It's hell! We sent our boy there without a trial!"

"He didn't need a trial. We saw him."

Lily didn't care. She narrowed her eyes, thinking about James strangling Harry. She had never seen her husband react so viciously against their own children, let alone with complete strangers. James had never reacted so badly to Severus in their school days, or Death Eaters, even those who had harmed friends and children.

"I don't ever want to see you act like you did towards anyone, James."

"Yeah, I know I was a bit heavy handed, but he still deserved—"

"You almost killed him!"

The suspicious expression on James's face instantly turned into one of rebuttal. "Christ's sake, Lily, do you hear yourself? He's a murderer and a torturer."

"What if he was forced…?" She was really grasping for an idea in the dark. It was an idea that had been locked away in her mind. She had been reminiscing about Harry as a child, and all the feelings of love and happiness overcame her. She was grasping for that broken notion of happiness. All these things were bringing up doubts about her son she had squashed many, many months before.

"Forced to kill?" James laughed, "No, Lily, he did it very willingly. When Dumbledore saw him in Azkaban after Christopher was almost abducted, Harry told him that Chris and Mike would be next, and then Jess and he'd make sure we'd watch. He had said all this with a smile on his face."

Lily covered her mouth, feeling instantly sick. "I didn't—why didn't you tell me?" She sat on the window ledge. "You're supposed to tell me everything, James!"

"I didn't want you to worry too much about the kids and me. It was only hours after they'd attempted Chris's abduction. Dumbledore wanted to know if Harry had known anything about it, or if the attack had just been random."

"It doesn't matter, James, I can handle anything that happens."

"I was protecting you."

"I'm not some helpless little woman!"

"I know. Sorry, I don't think sometimes." He ran his agitated hand through his hair.

"Yes, I've noticed." Lily crossed her arms in disgust. "Just like how you almost strangled Harry."

James ignored that comment, moving past his wife to open the window. He checked his watch. "It should be time for the afternoon edition."

Lily didn't like it when her husband changed the subject. He was avoiding the issues she really wanted to talk about and it had been happening far more often than it used to. He kept her out of the most important decisions and didn't include her in conversations with others.

Low and behold an owl punctured through the mist. Lily and James remained silent as the owl landed on the ledge. It was a rather beautiful snowy white owl. She hooted softly and poked out her foot, where a rolled up copy of The Daily Prophet was attached.

James threw a Knut, and the owl caught it in her beak.

"James," Lily tutted, placing the Knut into the little pouch tied around the owl's other leg. The owl thanked her with a gentle nip. "Honestly, she could've swallowed it."

But he wasn't paying attention, as he eagerly unrolled the paper. "Ha!" he said.

Lily looked away from the owl now flying off into the distance. "What is it?"

"Remember how there was a lot of commotion in Europe last December? You know, Muggle disasters that weren't suspicious enough for the Ministries to investigate? Then all those so called Deathly Hallow murders that are occurring more frequently now?"

"Hmm, yes, what of it?"

"It's definitely Grindelwald. He escaped. In fact, it was soon after Harry's imprisonment. He's gaining power again." James's eyes blazed with excitement.

Lily's jaw dropped. "But Dumbledore defeated him!" She snatched the evening paper from her husband's hands. "And since when does the Prophet tell the truth?"

_A New Terror Unfolds_ read the headline blazoned on the front page.

James raised his eyebrows. "Ahh, he was defeated, not killed. I don't know much of the story, I've never asked Dumbledore, but Char—" James took in a deep breath — "Charlie had said he was incarcerated somewhere in some obscure prison, powers gone, damaged. Besides, Dumbledore's a noble man; he'd never kill."

"He killed the Death Eater who almost took Christopher…" Lily said, she was feeling deflated.

James didn't seem to listen as he perused through the paper. "Great. That's all we need, another disillusioned Dark Lord running around causing mayhem and destruction."

She stared at a very old, archival picture of a blonde haired man with a long goatee. The pale, grimacing, though handsome man had finely sculpted cheek bones, but his light grey eyes were so cold. This made Lily's skin crawl. She wondered what he was up to, after all these years in prison. She suddenly smiled to herself and James noticed.

"What's with that look?"

She straightened her face and cleared her throat. "You-Know-Who won't be happy."

* * *

A day after Grindelwald had finally been revealed by The Daily Prophet, there was a loud knock that echoed throughout the dark residence belonging to Severus Snape. The little town house at Spinner's End was not accustomed to visitors, so this commotion was very strange indeed.

Severus folded the Prophet he had been reading. Today's front page had a picture of the Deathly Hallows symbol and the heading: _The Mark of Grindelwald._

The Dark Lord seemed to be cast momentarily aside for Grindelwald, who was slowly unfurling his claws in Britain.

Severus's master was furious, almost manic, summoning his Death Eaters every day to discuss Grindelwald and his next plan of action. Confusion ran rife within the ranks. Wizards were worried, and Muggles were noticing more strange things, more than they were accustomed to over the last twenty-eight years.

The knock grew more frequent and frantic. He placed the paper casually onto the coffee table and made his way to the front door. Gripping his wand with one hand, he softly shifted the curtains. None of the alarm spells placed on the door had been triggered, so the stranger was not an enemy to him.

Severus witnessed a hooded figure on the porch panting and wheezing for breath. The stranger looked left and right, suspicious of everything that moved. He knocked again, a little harder, looking impatient to get inside and away from danger.

He opened the door, glaring at the huddled figure. Snape narrowed his eyes from beneath the curtain of dark hair and viciously smiled at the mass he stood over.

"Well, well, well… look at what the pixies dragged here," he said with great pleasure. "Azkaban not good enough for an arrogant twat like you?"

The hood fell off the boy's head, revealing the untamed, emaciated face of Harry Potter. "Shut up, _Snivellus_!" he snarled.

Severus's slammed the door shut in the boy's face in response.

Potter yelled in frustration, knocking furiously. "This isn't funny, Snape!" he shouted, sounding desperate. "I've been hiding out for days. I need—"

Oh, how this thrilled Severus Snape, having the boy hooked around his little finger.

He opened the door again with a creak, and watched the boy give one last look at the world around him before he walked into the darkness of the hallway.


	7. Agenda

 

**Agenda**

_Many months earlier…_

A small boat drifted magically through a dark cave with only two people in it. Dumbledore sat at the back, looking ahead as the top of his glittering hat now grazed the low cave ceiling. At the front, a wheezing, hunchbacked hag grasped the boat's sides. She didn't seem too keen on water and boats, and looked very green.

The boat rocked with each invisible stroke, making him feel sick, and the smell of moss and stagnant water filled his nostrils. Dumbledore pulled out a tiny silver vinaigrette box and held it to his nose, smelling the lavender and rose to take the edge off the odours. But the air was suffocating and humid, so to pass the time he hummed to himself. It did, however, not drown out the distant screams, or the sharp snap of a whip that echoed down the rocky tunnel.

"We're 'ere, Mr Cicen," the hag wheezed in a hoarse, foreign accent. She crawled to the shore, glad to finally touch land.

"Excellent," said Dumbledore, getting out of the boat. "I trust Dementors don't exist here."

"Dose foul beazts? No zir, most migrated to your country, zir... Maybe you can write dat into your history book, Mr Cicen."

"If it relates to the prisoner in question, then maybe I will." Dumbledore grimaced as he twirled his dark brown beard.

A candle that had hovered in front of the boat now bobbed along in midair, leading their way around a bend. After the hag secured the boat, Dumbledore followed her, limping. His cane _click-clacked_ on the ground.

"Zir, tis way, zir."

He looked up and saw arched windows carved into the yellow stone. He distinctly thought of Swiss cheese. Light shone out of the windows in many colours, like Christmas lights. Dumbledore would've smiled, perhaps even made a comment about this, but this place was anything but happy and fun.

A few squeaking and flapping bats filled the pathway of a spiral staircase, worn from hundreds of years of use. Before this godforsaken place had been turned into a prison by Grindelwald, it had been an old dwarf mine and village. Then the mine had dried up forcing them to move on.

Goblins could smell treachery and thievery a mile away. They had a propensity for it as they were highly skilled in thievery and murderous deeds themselves. So Grindelwald forced the Bulgarian goblins, with the offer of great rewards, to take over the abandoned dwarf mine. With their ingenuity, they turned it into the prison it was today.

Dumbledore remembered a few tidbits of goblin history and wars from his time as a Hogwarts student. He did recall that goblins were once mutinous dwarf guards from a Scandinavian dwarf clan called Edderdøp.

The guards were different from the rest of their kin. As the clan was isolated from other dwarf colonies, it had made some taller with thicker bones, and their eyes black and beady. But their strength and magic was superior, different, exhibiting similar elements of a fledging Mage. It made them best suited to protecting the mine.

The Edderdøp mine was a place of great wealth, large and dense. But the commander of the guards, Grømand, grew so greedy that he demanded better payment for their service. The new chief, Behårmand, not only refused the request, but he distrusted the different looking kin and exiled them above the surface. It was the ultimate disgrace for any dwarf.

Using their unique magic, the guards fought back, killed the chief and all male dwarfs, before taking control of the mine.

It was dark moment in dwarf history and one rarely talked about. If it was mentioned, the dwarfs would only refer to the event as the Black Memory and then steered the conversation onto another subject.

As their new hybrid clan grew, they called themselves goblins. They attacked other mines, killed their kin and kidnapped female dwarfs. They were so arrogant in the beginning that they incited terror with Muggles and wizards by stealing treasure, murdering people in their sleep and as myth had it, eating magical infants.

Thousands of years later, their evil aided their transformation into ugly, clever and powerful beings who schemed, cheated and killed to advance their own agenda.

Unlike the European goblins who continued to sabotage and blackmail wizard and dwarf governments, the goblins in England changed a thousand years ago, during the time Hogwarts was being built. They did not have good mines, so they used their intelligence to create Gringotts. They were also the only goblin clan in the world to have a semi-good relationship with the dwarfs abroad.

_"ARRRGHHHH!"_

Dumbledore's attention turned to the hag, who almost fell down some stairs slick with blood. He stopped short of the first step.

"Prisoner tried to escape laz' night." The hag shrugged, as though bloodied stairs were a normal occurrence.

"Tis way, zir." At the end of the second flight of stairs, the hag led him down a roughly carved out corridor.

Wrought iron bars stood everywhere, chains snaked on the slimy ground or walls, and the flicking dim light was cold and uninviting. It felt similar to Azkaban, right down to the despair. There was also a tang of blood in the air.

Then dirty, long-nailed hands sometimes reached through bars.

"GER' OFF!" the hag screamed. She bashed the hands away with a knobbly baton she had retrieved from her cloak. "You kept tat up and there'll be nooooooo food for teh lot of yer bazzzztardzzz!"

Dumbledore kept his focus ahead. He did not want to view those faces, did not want to see their dead looking eyes, their lips pleading with silent words. He did not want to remember those sunken green eyes of the boy he had left behind in Azkaban. His guilt and torment rose in his chest like a clawed hand.

His dark thoughts disappeared when they met a couple of Finnish Aurors along the way, bent over in deep conversation, each holding a goblet of mead. The Aurors bowed their heads at the sight of him. Dumbledore greeted them, before continuing on.

The prison faculty was filled with Aurors and workers from all over Europe, mostly English Aurors who were disenfranchised with the British Ministry and he saw that some were familiar faces. This place was the only place they could earn a living.

"Ere'," said the hag as she stopped at a dungeon door.

The sturdy door was filled with heavy enchantments. On the hag's command, it opened with a howling shriek. She stood aside, conjured a small rickety stool and sat down.

Dumbledore entered the cell. His eyes needed adjusting to the darkness, while his nose needed adjusting to the horrible smell of human waste and decay. The full moon's light washed over the room with a cold eerie light that made the deadly silence even more permeable. There was no warmth, no sense of happiness, no sense of hope. There was only the expectation of death and suffering.

The door closed behind him with an ear-piercing shriek.

The sound of his footsteps and cane echoed within the dark room. The ceiling was high, filled with chains, spikes and restraints, and a cage hung in the middle like a ghastly looking chandelier. Though there was only one man in here, living. Scattered bones and rotting corpses of rats and one man were kicked towards a corner into a pile, like a daily reminder of the prisoner's impending doom. He covered his mouth and pressed on. Did they not bury the dead here? Dumbledore wondered.

He could see a body in a corner, sitting cross-legged and proud. He was still breathing. After all these years, one man had managed to outlive all his cellmates, fueled by his ambitions.

"Who are you?"

Dumbledore removed his disguise, even his black Muggle cane morphed into something majestic.

This prisoner chuckled lightly. "Well… you're a sight for sore eyes."

"It's been awhile, hasn't it, Gellert?" Dumbledore moved closer.

He ignited his wand and observed the man's features. He was old. The years had been unkind to Gellert, making him look older than Dumbledore himself. The man's beard and hair trailed the floor in knots and dirty wet clumps. His eyes were desperately sunken and sad. His wrinkles were deep, his skin grey and flaking.

" _Gellert..._ I haven't heard my name in awhile." A slight smile lifted the corners of his mouth. He obviously hadn't smiled for years. He then frowned. "No one calls me by my name anymore."

"Gellert... have you heard of a wizard who calls himself Voldemort?"

The man's eyes lit up. "Ahh, that English bastard, what's his name… It is a strange name, _Riddle._ Timothy, Titus..."

"Tom Riddle."

"I do not have the luxury of newspapers in here, but I do hear things. He is winning the war, isn't he?"

"I wouldn't say winning," Dumbledore said slowly. He conjured a chair of his own, and a bottle of brandy with two glasses.

The prisoner stiffened up, eyeing the bottle suspiciously. "What are you doing here, Albus?"

Dumbledore poured out the brandy and handed the glass to the man, then sat down and placed his ornate cane across his legs.

"Have you hurt yourself?"

"A mere accident." Dumbledore smiled. "A year ago, I tripped over a kneazle who was rummaging through the grounds of Hogwarts and I broke my hip. I am better, fear not."

The old prisoner laughed. "I could always see through your lies."

"And yours too." He raised his glass and drank the brandy. "I have come—I have a favour to ask of you."

The prisoner narrowed his grey eyes. " _Oho,_ and what do I get in return? I've been in here for over sixty years, no thanks to you." The wizard smirked, sipping his brandy after sniffing it, and after a flutter of hesitation. He closed his eyes and savoured the drink.

"Believe me, Lord Grindelwald, you will not pass this opportunity up."

Hearing his full name, the old man swelled with renewed pride. "Tell me then. But be careful what you say in here. The goblins might hear.""

Dumbledore observed the once powerful wizard intently as he placed charms around the room to protect their secrets. He held the glass to his lips. "First, what have you heard about a boy named Harry Potter?"

"Potter… The name is familiar. They come from a long line of purebloods, right? Yes, very prominent... _powerful_ … at least from the Peverell side of the equation, and you know why, Albus." Grindelwald grinned, revealing several missing teeth. "Are those charms you put up able to keep the goblin spies out?"

Dumbledore nodded. "Our conversation is secure."

In a hushed voice Gellert said, "The eldest boy is Voldemort's right hand, isn't he?"

"Yes, but he is in prison now. One of the things you'll be doing for me is to keep an eye on him."

The prisoner tapped his chin with a gnarly finger. "Funny, I've heard the goblins are keeping tabs on the boy too..."

"Harry would be an asset to anyone who can control him."

"And how will I be conducting these favours of yours within prison?"

"I find the Bulgarian goblins are easier to sway..." Dumbledore looked at the prisoner. "They're much less adherent to rules and laws than their English counterparts. In a few days, you may find the door to your cell open for no apparent reason."

* * *

_July 26th, the present._

A tall, long-haired boy limped around the dark living-room of Severus Snape's dwelling. His fingers prodded the coffee table where a pile of old tomes sat and then the trinkets and boxes near his fireplace.

This very much annoyed Severus. He didn't like anyone touching his things or defiling his house with filth and blood. More so, it was the fact that a Potter had entered his house that irked him most.

He watched the boy stride to the couch, fingers lazily touching the fabric, taking his time to absorb the surroundings while the sun slowly sunk below the horizon, dimming the light within the house.

"Where's Emily?" Potter asked without looking him in the eye. "I hope you haven't killed her because of her subpar potion making skills."

Severus gazed around the room, making sure that nothing he wished to keep private was out in the open. "Her potion skills are much better than yours ever was. Besides, she has other valuable skills, that to discard her like a scrap of garbage would have been a disgrace."

"Then where is she?"

"Miles is a fully initiated Death Eater. She is free to do what she likes without my mentorship."

The boy snorted. " _Free…_ Now, that's irony."

"Potter, you've come here for safety, not to check on my Conditioned's welfare."

The burgundy couch was covered in a thick layer of dust, but it was still comfortable and inviting. The boy sat down slowly, pain stretching over his face. He spread his arms over the back of it and closed his eyes.

"Do try and keep your filth off my furniture," Severus hissed.

It was a rare sight indeed for a visitor to grace the rooms of his house, even one as prickly as this boy. And if a visitor did come, it was just as rare if he left the house in one piece.

"It's not like they're not filthy already," the boy retorted. "In fact, do you ever clean? I s'pose not, otherwise your hair wouldn't be so greasy."

Silence…

The tangible feeling of hate spread from Severus like licks of flame. _Such immature snides_ , he thought. It was bad enough the boy looked almost like his father, right down to that damnable untamed hair. Severus did not want to suffer insolence under his own roof. Why did he let him in? _Damn you, Lily._

Severus whipped out his wand, jabbing the point in the soft skin underneath Potter's chin. The boy looked alarmed, though not as much as he would've liked.

"Insult me again in my own house, Potter. _I dare you_! And from now on, I will do the questioning." Even though the boy was above him in command, Severus was still the boy's senior and that demanded respect and fear, something which he knew Potter failed to grasp.

Potter's jaw clenched, breathing heavily. His Adam's apple bobbed up and down.

"It's a shame those Atoners didn't rip out you tongue." Severus sheathed his wand within his black robes again. "Where have you been hiding?"

"Here and there, anywhere dark," he croaked.

"Why has it taken you so long to seek refuge? Everyone else reported to our master within hours of their escape."

"None of your business."

_"None of my—?"_ Severus glowered. "You do realise I will need to report to the Dark Lord about you coming here?"

Potter's jaw tensed. "What are you going to tell him?"

"I don't know yet... perhaps I will tell him you've procrastinated. He hates that." A ripple of fear crossed Potter's face, but only for a second and it gave Severus a lot of satisfaction _._ "So again, I ask you, what were you doing for days after your escape?"

"Literally, _nuh-thing,_ " he said slowly, his tongue flicking over the last syllables. "Go on, Snape, tell him. I don't care." He goaded.

"And you do realise, _if_ I tell him, he will punish you, if not kill you?"

The boy raised his chin in confidence. "He won't! I'm his favourite, remember?"

"You're insane." Severus narrowed his eyes.

"Do you know why I came here?"

"Enlighten me, yes. Why are you here gracing me with your presence?" he asked, waving his hand around the house.

"Because you like to keep your snivelling mouth shut." Potter frowned, laying his arm casually over the couch again. "I've never seen you grovel like the others, divulging secrets for rewards. You keep everything to yourself."

Severus was slightly put off by this. _The boy trusts me... interesting._ Yet he didn't know whether he could trust the boy. There were so many questions he wanted to ask Potter, but Death Eaters kept the questioning to a bare minimum about each other's past. It was seen to be very _dubious._ Instead, Severus used Miles to spy for him, gathering information about other Death Eaters' Conditioned, captives and their locations for the Order. Though lately, he noticed the girl was keeping a lot of secrets to herself.

"No one knows how you lot escaped Azkaban. Do you?"

Severus just stared into those lifeless light green eyes Potter had inherited from his mother.

"I don't know. All I know is that I woke up, and my side of the Black Square was destroyed and we were freed. We thought it was a trap at first…"

He watched the boy's expressions for lies. He would normally have used Legilimency, but since Potter was just as accomplished as he in Occlumency, he had to resort to observing facial expressions.

"How odd, Potter, that you managed to escape with seven others."

"Indeed," the boy agreed.

"Did you know the people you had escaped with?" Severus knew one fact of this escape. Only one of the seven was a truly loyal Death Eater: Henry Cox: a Death Eater who was a spy in the Ministry.

The others were conditioned, and had become deadly assassins, killing off prominent Muggle officials. While two were innocent wizards imprisoned for no crime, except for opposing the Ministry.

"I knew of them."

Severus decided not to press on with questions on his escape for now. "What did the Atoners do to you?"

"You know. You just want to hear it for your own perverse pleasure."

"I have no qualms in seeing you suffer, Potter," he said. He kicked the boy's dirty feet from the coffee table. "But you're here for help. I can help you."

Potter laughed.

"When was the last time you ate?" he continued, firing off more questions than he had answers.

"A rat one day ago. Do you want to know the last time I had a shit too?" Potter opened his sunken eyes.

Severus would never be intimidated or scared of a stupid, ignorant, power-hungry, toerag teen. The mere thought was laughable.

The way he smiled reminded Severus of Lily; it was the way her almond-shaped eyes narrowed, and the glow of the smile was exactly like his. Though Lily's had sparkled with love and fun, her son's did not. Severus shook the feeling of dread away as he wondered what made Potter turn to the Dark side.

He stood in front of the boy, arms crossed with the intent of staring him to death. "Be careful, Potter. I am a Senior; one word, and the Dark Lord will make you pay."

"It's not like he's never planned to kill me, anyway."

_So brash, bold, and reckless. Not that you had changed much, but what happened to you, Potter?_ A few times, Severus had tried to get a straight answer from Dumbledore about the boy's sudden change of sides, but the old wizard, his confidante, had never revealed anything. Could the boy be working for Dumbledore like he was? Or perhaps the boy, unlike him, _had been_ working for Dumbledore.

Strangely, the Dark Lord wanted the boy close and even closer after Dumbledore had succumbed to his master's powers at the end of fifth year. Many could not understand this, especially since Potter and his family had been considered an enemy.

Eventually, stupidly, the boy was caught loitering around Ms Granger's house after he had killed his brother. The charms the clever Muggleborn had placed on her house had alerted the Aurors straight away.

While Potter was under Severus's thumb, he was going to risk it and question him about it. It would stop Lily pestering him for information. He curled his lip. "At least you know what's coming. Now, why did you go to your family? Who did you kill for that wand and Portkey?"

"Speaking with my mum, lately?"

"News travels fast."

"That's bullshit, Snape—!"

"Why did you go there, Potter? You still haven't reported to our master!"

"I-I wanted to see my sister. Then my mother caught me... I needed time to escape, so I made them think I was loopy."

"I think you succeeded."

"Good. I'm not ready to kill my parents yet—too weak," he rambled on. "My Portkey Charm was slightly off in direction and landed me in the house, stupid thing. I burgled an old wizard—didn't kill him."

"Where's your Yew and Phoenix wand?"

"Hidden in a cave."

Potter wasn't thinking rationally, Severus thought. "The same cave with this elusive diadem?" he mocked.

The boy tapped his fingers on the armrest, taking a moment to respond, as he perhaps remembered the finer details of his conversation with Lupin. "Oh, yeah... Ravenclaw's diadem... Good story wasn't it?"

"Pathetic, really… Did the Atoners break you?"

Silence permeated the air, chilly and unforgiving. Severus could hear the grandfather clock he had inherited from his Muggle grandfather chime. It seemed so far, even though it was only a few feet away.

_"Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall…"_ Potter sang to himself, rocking back and forth.

"Did they break you?" he repeated, getting bored of the games. Severus moved closer to him, and the tiniest flutter of his black robes brushed against the boy's arm. The reaction was instant and confirmed his queries. Potter jumped away, startled and very alarmed.

Severus backed away. "Calm down, I won't hurt you."

"I never revealed anything."

He could've taunted Potter, made him squirm, perhaps even lashed out and attacked him, yet in the end he chose not to. Instead, Severus glanced out the window, giving the boy space and a chance to regain control, secretly relishing the power he now held over the boy.

When Potter had first walked in, he'd probably thought he could command Severus around. _Wrong._ In truth, the boy was nothing; only a pawn for the Dark Lord's game.

"Can I stay?" the boy sounded like a scared child. "It'll only be for a little while, until—"

"Yes. Just get washed. Use the spare bedroom, and I'll have the house elf fix you some dinner. I will call in a Healer on our side, Sigmus Pritchard. You'd know him."

Potter scowled at being told what to do, though Severus could see his tense shoulders relaxing somewhat.

"While you're under my roof, you're to obey my every command." He took in the look of outrage on Potter's face with pleasure. "I daresay it will be a change for you."

Potter stood up and slowly moved up the stairs, purposely sullying even more of Severus's house with dirt and mud.

* * *

In a cave near Wiltshire, Harry woke up. His mind was reeling, and a sense of confusion was setting into a hard ball in the middle of his chest. He had just had a rather vivid dream.

He had seen everything his Mirror was doing through his eyes, just like it had happened with Voldemort in his own world. He cupped his hands over his eyes, drinking in whatever was left of his dream as it slipped away. He remembered seeing Snape, his house, and his Mirror desperate for a safe place.

For two days Harry had stayed in the cave, only venturing out to find food and little snippets of information from the nearby Muggle town. He wanted to investigate the world and formulate ways to get Mirror Dumbledore's attention without ending up a prisoner or worse. He already had an idea, but it would be risky.

Everything in this Mirror Universe looked the same, but Harry had noticed a heavy cold mist that hung about almost constantly. What had shocked him most, however, was the discovery of a mass murder scene outside a pub he'd seen when walking through town that evening. There was a group of dead Muggles, and a few who were barely alive.

People were trying to get a better look at the death and destruction, but the police, masked in special protective gear and wearing sterile gloves were shooing them away. Harry got closer, sticking behind yellow fences that were erected around the area of the dead. Muggles in biohazard suits were carefully piling the plastic covered bodies onto gurneys to be whisked away. Those who were still alive were put into plastic bubble sort of devices, in the hopes they'd contain the mysterious disease.

"Dear God, when did this happen?" a woman in front of Harry asked. "I know this has been happening all over the country for years now, but I never expected it to happen _here_ , in my own town!"

A man next to her whispered, "It happened at sundown, before curfew. Some heard screaming, but something got to them as they escaped the pub and they dropped like flies…"

"But what was it? You can't just die like that." The woman clicked his fingers, emphasising her point.

"Well, they all thought it was some sort of fast spreading disease, but I've heard rumours that a coppa' was shooting at something no one could see before he died too."

_The Dementor's Kiss,_ Harry thought. _That policeman must have been a squib or more._

He retreated from the area and stole some food from the local store with the hoodie of his jacket drawn over his face. The owner of the shop was more interested in the murder scene than seeing a boy stealing. He quickly returned to the cave, with the Muggle town far in the distance and thought hard whether he wanted to be hiding longer, especially with Dementors everywhere.

More than once, Harry had thought about turning himself in to the Order and pleading for them to believe him. But fear held him back until today after witnessing those Muggles. He hadn't been ready to face a father who hated him and a heartbroken mother.

It was now or never. Harry swore, picked up his jacket, ready to Apparate to someone who could help him... perhaps, after a little Confundus Charm, and then get Dumbledore to him.

Suddenly he heard voices whispering outside and a child crying, and remained completely still.

"This way," one said. A boy.

"Wait, Tony, what if there's a g-ghost in there—"

They sounded like children. One could've mistaken them for playful voices, but Harry could hear the fear.

"Don't be stupid, Ashley… could be a Dementor."

"TONY!" the little girl screamed. "That's not funny."

"Then stop being stupid. Ghosts are nothing, anyway."

Harry saw wand light at the very edge of the cave, and could see the shadows of two figures getting closer. What he saw next made his insides squirm.

The boy, perhaps twelve years old, had a disfigured face; his right side was scarred. His right eye was white and foggy, and part of his hair was missing. What shocked Harry most was the Dark Mark, as black as ink on his left forearm where his cloak had drifted back.

The little girl, who had been scared moments before, gripped the boy's cloak.

She was two feet shorter than the boy; her hair had been shaved off and was very dirty.

"I want to go home…" she said, scared and sad. "We've been running for days… we aren't that far away from Malfoy Manor yet."

Harry swore under his breath. He had forgotten the Malfoys lived in Wiltshire.

"We can't, stupid. We need to hide or Bellatrix will catch us."

What kind of a world was this? Harry thought with horror. He moved his hand an inch and some gravel fell to the ground. Both children looked at the very spot he stood and screamed.


	8. The Conditioned

**The Conditioned**

"Quiet _. Shhhhh!_ I won't hurt you." Harry backed away from the scared children.

"I know who you are," the boy whispered. "You were there when they attacked my family—you killed my dad!"

The little girl named Ashley sobbed, her face screwed up in tears. She looked so exhausted. "Mummy died too."

Harry opened his mouth, but he was speechless.

"I don't suppose you would remember," the boy said, venom lacing his voice. "You probably kill people and kidnap kids all the time." The little girl cried into the boy's cloak. "I'll tell you something, we haven't changed at all for The Dark Lord! Our parents were on the good side, so we'll die for the good side too."

Harry was taken aback by such a mature-minded kid. He looked into the boy's good blue eye. There was such determination in him, such fierce hate and so much bitterness.

"You've mistaken me for someone else—someone who looks like me."

"Yeah, right—"

_BANG!_

They heard shouts and laughter from outside the cave and now both children seemed to shrink into the shadows, frightened. Death Eaters must have followed the children. Harry armed himself and swore quietly.

"Oh no!" the girl squealed. "I don't want to go back."

The kids tried to bolt, but Harry grabbed them both, cupped their mouths and hid them in the darkness with him.

"I saw them come in here," a deep voice rang. A light danced on the stones ahead of Harry, and he saw the figures' long thin shadows snaking their way through the cave like spidery fingers.

"Come come, little bitsy children," droned a female voice.

Harry remembered that voice with a shiver. It belonged to Bellatrix Lestrange.

"You can't escape, children. You belong to me now."

Another female Death Eater laughed. She giggled with joy. She sounded like a happy hyena who'd found meat to scavenge. "Come on now, Anthony and Ashley. Be good and come out. If you do, the punishment will be less than severe, but only just."

"Alecto, will you stop terrifying the Conditioned. They won't come out if you threaten them like that," another Death Eater spoke.

"Shut up, Sinistra."

"I smell blood," said another. To Harry's horror he saw Fenrir Greyback's shadow loom near.

Both children tried to squirm away, but he made sure he held them tight.

"I'll have you both for dinner, I will—"

"No you won't, Greyback," Bellatrix shrieked. "If you lay your stinking fangs on my kids, I'll make sure you pay for it!"

He laughed sarcastically. "Bella, your rats are useless. They wouldn't recognise the enemy if it danced in front of their faces."

"DON'T YOU DARE TALK TO ME LIKE THAT, YOU FUCKING BEAST!"

The Death Eaters halted their search as they squabbled amongst themselves.

Harry needed to Disapparate the children to safety. Time was running out fast. If they were caught, he would never find a way to get back home. His half-formed plan vanished when the girl bit his arm and ran.

"NO!" both Harry and the boy yelled. The girl fell straight into Greyback's clutches and screamed.

"Gotcha, lil' missy."

Harry and Tony bolted after her, and saw her legs kicking in the air as Greyback picked her up, fangs bared dangerously.

"GET OFF HER!" Bella roared, slashing her wand at the werewolf.

 _"Stupefy!"_ Harry yelled. The jet of red light hit Greyback between the shoulder blades, just as Bellatrix's blue curse hit his face. Greyback toppled sideways pulling the girl with him.

The Death Eater, Sinistra, who Harry recognised as a professor at Hogwarts in his own world, pulled Ashley free, holding her robes tightly. Both were now watching him with trepidation.

Bella seemed stunned, as though she had been hit by Harry's curse. Then she smiled, though awkward at first, pointing her wand at him. There was nothing friendly about it.

"Well, well, well, protecting the little ones are you now, Harry?" Bellatrix said. "And where have you been?"

She sounded winded, like she had been running. She licked her lips while Harry struggled to keep the boy from running into their clutches as well.

"Come back with us. I might even let you condition them this time."

"Let her go," Harry said confidently, his anger at Bellatrix swelling into a giant ball ready to burst. He watched Greyback growl at him as he staggered upright, his senses coming back to him.

And then Harry said something which sounded revolting. "Besides, I found them first."

The boy he was trying to protect yelled and kicked him. He ignored the sharp pain in his left knee. "Hand her over, Sinistra," Harry ground out.

What surprised him most was that the Death Eaters had listened to his command. Sinistra let go of the flailing girl. Ashley stumbled and backed away from the Death Eaters, inching her way slowly towards him.

How high up in the chain of command was Harry in this world? He felt a sick thrill of power sizzle through his veins. But was it his power and his own thoughts? Harry swatted this doubt from his mind. He'd worry about it later. First, he needed to get out of this situation.

Bellatrix scowled. "YOU CAN'T JUST STEAL MY PROPERTY, POTTER! You've got no right!"

Harry was outraged. How could they steal children and brainwash them to become murderers? "I'm taking them, and you can't stop me."

The girl tugged on the boy's sleeve. She wasn't crying anymore, instead Harry could see her wand poking from her tattered sleeve. Harry caught her wand arm before she had the chance to do anything drastic.

"You can't take them!" Bella screeched, wand pointing between Harry's eyes now. Green sparks flew out of it. "The Dark Lord will hear of this, and he will punish you!"

Holding tight onto both children, he whirled around. With a loud crack, Harry vanished with the children to the safest place he thought of first. The space was cramped and noisy with whooshing air, mixed with Bella's screams of outrage.

He opened his eyes and felt a cold breeze on his face. For a moment Harry couldn't believe what had just happened. He looked at his feet, still acutely aware that he was holding onto to two very scared, yet dangerous children.

They were standing in a grassy park full of mist. The sky was filled with looming clouds, mist and the threat of rain. He had just escaped Death Eaters without them even challenging his authority. Adrenalin rushed through his body. His heart was beating fast. He almost felt victorious.

Then he heard sniffling. The little girl was sobbing. Harry realised that he was holding the children tight enough to feel their pulses.

Panic set in and then another foreboding began to bloom. What was he going to do with two kids? He couldn't take care of them, let alone himself.

"What are you going to do to us?" the boy spoke. "If you survive, what skills would you like us to learn?"

"Skills?"

"Yeah... you know... Bellatrix wanted us to excel in torturing and killing."

"We can kill," the girl added confidently.

"What will you teach us?"

 _To be normal children?_ Harry looked ahead and spotted a swing and a slippery slide. They were in a Muggle park and behind the trees he could see a couple of scattered cars zooming by. "I don't know yet... Look, I'm not going to hurt you."

"Yeah, right," the boy said, but there was resignation in his voice.

"Bella would've punished us." The little girl trembled. "That's what happens if you ever tried to escape. And-and if you escape three times, y-you have to be killed."

"You're in deep shit, now, Potter."

"Why?" _Tell me something I don't know_.

"It's treason against the Dark Lord, stealing us." Tony grimaced. "I can't believe you did that, especially against your Mentor. You'll be killed publicly for that."

"Er… right." Harry hesitated, then said, "I'm going to try and get you two to safety, but in order to do that I need your help."

"Whe-where are you taking us?" Ashley asked.

"Somewhere safe from the Ministry… from Voldemort… and I need to get in contact with Dumbledore."

Both children gasped in fear, because Harry had said Voldemort's name. They had even stopped struggling against his grip to stare.

Harry swore to himself. He remembered that the name was now cursed in his own world. For a moment he feared that Death Eaters would be alerted. Looking around, he was glad they hadn't showed up, meaning his name wasn't Tabooed.

"You're not supposed to say his name, Potter. That's treason too. That's another publicly punishable offence."

 _"Publicly?_ What do you mean by that?"

"You should know!"

"Look, I'm different now," he added. "Prison's changed me. I'm on the good side now."

Tony narrowed his eyes. "We're not stupid, you know. Just because Dolores Umbridge oversaw your imprisonment doesn't mean you've changed."

"Umbridge?" _Why aren't I surprised?_ "How long has she been destroying people's lives?

"Ten years."

"Hasn't Dumbledore done anything about it?"

 _"Dumbledore_?" the boy asked in shock. "He's nothing. He can't do much against the Ministry."

"Daddy was in the Order, so how come Dumbledore didn't rescue us?" Ashley mumbled.

"Yeah, how come he left us to rot?" Tony clenched his hands into fists. "Maybe it's because my parents wanted nothing to do with the Order anymore. I guess we weren't worthy enough to be saved."

"I don't know, Tony." In Harry's world, reading Skeeter's articles about her book, _The Life and Lies of Dumbledore,_ and listening to Aunt Muriel's gossip made Harry a little more than confused and angry about Dumbledore. But he still trusted his mentor, deep down.

Tony shook his head. "He doesn't care. When Hogwarts was open, he did his best to protect the school. He even let Muggleborns in. The Dark Lord was greatly displeased about that. Then, of course, you turned _really_ bad after Dumbledore's defeat. Then the Chamber of Secrets opened."

"Oh… Who opened the Chamber?"

Tony narrowed his eyed. "You did. Do you remember what happened next?"

Harry shook his head and Tony continued. "The Muggleborns were rounded up by some message you sent, and most were killed by that monster. It's still on the loose. Then you and Bellatrix attacked my family and I watched you kill our father."

Harry could learn a lot from these kids. He needed to learn more than enough for him to survive in this world.

"You both have wands, and you haven't tried to curse me yet."

"Yeah, well, you're one of the Dark Lord's closest servants, Potter. We've seen the destruction you can do. We wouldn't even dare hex you."

Harry sighed. "Look, if I let you both go, where would you go?"

"Home," Ashley said, "to Grandma's."

"We can't," the boy stressed. "She's dead! We'd just keep running."

"What, for the rest of your lives?" The children looked at each other. Harry sighed. "If I was really bad, what would I have done to you by know?"

"Bad stuff..."

"And I haven't."

"You could be tricking us," Tony spat.

He loosened his grip on their arms and hoped that it wasn't a stupid thing to do. "I'm not. I'm going to let you both go. You'll have the choice of running away and getting caught again, or you can follow me and be safe." _Safe? This should be interesting..._

Harry walked away, his jacket flapping in the breeze. He was met with only silence and cold air. After a moment, fearing that the children had run away, he turned around.

Brother and sister stood side by side hugging each other, eyes glued on him.

"I guess you'll be following me then?" Harry said, shivering now.

They were alone in a deserted park, swirling with that ghastly mist, with nothing to protect themselves from the elements. He knew where he had to head to next. He just wasn't sure how they'd react. Harry trudged forward, the wet grass sliding along his trouser legs and sneakers, soaking them.

"Your names are Ashley and Tony, right?" He asked, as he halted by a set of lurid coloured monkey bars. Not too far off, the tar on the road glittered with light rain.

The little girl nodded. "Y-yes, we're Ashley and Anthony Pettigrew."

" _Shut up,_ Ash!" the boy hissed and the girl screeched when her brother yanked her arm. "He already knows! He's just playing games with us."

"That's enough!" Harry's heart fluttered. _Pettigrew's children? Peter Pettigrew?_ Harry felt a sense of revulsion spread throughout his body like wildfire. "Peter-?"

"What do you think?" Tony retorted in disgust.

"And he was good, was he?"

"Yeah," the boy said, outraged at such a question. "Don't you dare say anything bad about our father, Potter!" he yelled. "He saved your dad's life!"

Harry bit his lip, curious indeed. So Peter was good in this world and had rescued James in some way. _If only Peter had the guts in my own world,_ he thought bitterly.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to sound rude," he replied calmly. "Um, how did your dad save mine?" His curiosity got the better of him.

The boy continued to look at him suspiciously, as though he thought Harry had gone mad. "There was an attack at a Muggle boarding school during the full moon. Sirius, James and my dad were first on the scene, having the most experience dealing with werewolves. Greyback attacked James, but my dad got in the way, saving him and was bitten instead. He was never the same again. He didn't like the Order after that."

"I'm sorry to hear that Tony. Was your dad my parent's Secret Keeper?"

"Sirius is."

Harry pressed on with the questions. He felt as though he was treading on eggshells with the next question. "Was your dad a Death Eater?"

Tony kicked a stone over. "Was… He turned though. Your dad and Sirius found out when you were four months old and stopped him from getting too far in. Then Dumbledore used him to spy for the Order—Why am I telling you all this? You know!"

"Well, I'm interested in hearing your side of the story." Harry cleared his throat and continued walking with them.

Tony nodded, though he was still very suspicious. "Dumbledore didn't give a toss about my dad after he got bitten. The last time Dad visited your family, it was to speak with Charlie, before, well… before you killed him."

"Why did he visit Charlie?" Harry questioned, stopping to look into the boy's good eye.

Tony shrugged. "Charlie was cool, annoying—always asking questions—but cool. He knew so much about animals and he taught me so much stuff. I guess my dad had questions about the bite."

In the distance, they heard a few cars skidding along the road. Probably kids drag racing, Harry thought. Once again he thought of the immediate danger they were all in. "Look, we really need to get out of here."

"Where are we going?" Ashley asked. She was about to move, but Tony stopped her and made sure he held her hand tightly.

"Yeah, where exactly are you planning on taking us? It better be quick, Potter, there's that Muggle curfew."

"Just follow me, it's not that far away," Harry said, walking through shrubs and away from a set of swings squeaking in the breeze. "What do you mean there's a curfew?'

"The Muggle army patrols the streets at night, _trying_ to protect the Muggles from Dementors and Death Eaters. Anyone without a Blue Pass isn't allowed to roam the streets."

Harry focused ahead to the neatly manicured lawns and the pristine, boring little houses as his mind was reeling at the fact he was now protecting Pettigrew's children. He needed to get through to his aunt first, before dealing with Vernon and Dudley. For now, they'd try to find somewhere warm to sleep nearby.

* * *

Severus loved the silence and his house was filled with much of it. He stood in a dark corner, watching Potter sleep. He slept peacefully, and that was simply done with a swig of Dreamless Sleep potion.

He thought what the consequences might be if he pulled a pillow from beneath Potter's head and smothered him with it. The Dark Lord wouldn't be too happy about that, he mused.

It had been hours since the boy had first arrived here. Severus left Healer Pritchard alone, locked in the room with Potter to do his work. Now he saw the boy for the first time since he arrived, and the difference was remarkable.

Pritchard, a bald-headed healer with piercing grey eyes and a bulbous, oily nose wiped his hands clean of the blood and grime from Potter's old wounds. Severus helped by placing the bed sheets over the boy's bandaged body, and quickly placed a charm on the sheets to make them feel like they weighed a lot. He wanted to make sure the boy didn't move one inch.

"I'm done," Pritchard rasped.

"How long will it be until he recovers?"

"The wounds are old. Some of the cursed ones may take awhile to heal…" The Healer shrugged. "Give him a few days and he'll feel himself again. I cannot say the same for his mind. He might need something for that." The Healer turned and downed a glass of Firewiskey which sat on the cabinet.

Potter was cleaned. His face was once again smooth, without that pathetic beard he had sprouted. His hair, though still long, had been washed, then untangled and a charm had been used to remove the louse infestation. He still carried various wounds and his bones jutted underneath papery grey skin. But he wasn't in any danger.

Pritchard poured himself another full glass of whiskey, and then moved towards his tattered briefcase. He began rummaging through it, pulling out bottles. "He'll need a few potions." He placed them on the cabinet, one after the other. "I don't need to explain what they are and how often you need to give them. You are after all, the maker of these."

Severus silently picked up a bottle, shaking its contents. He then charmed a chair to the bed and sat, watching the boy sleep. He knew from reports that Potter was an insomniac. In Azkaban, prisoners had learned not to sleep for long. They learnt that the dark was their enemy and horrors would come. The cell they kept Potter in had charms to suppress his magic and any fight or escape attempt he may try. Yet, he somehow escaped.

Now that the boy was safe, there would be nothing to distract him from the sins others had done to him. Severus smirked in the darkness. Perhaps Potter's experience might humble him a bit.

"I'd best be going," the Healer announced, breaking Severus's thoughts.

"Yes, it's rather late. Thank you."

Pritchard packed his things away, discarding bloodied towels, soiled gauze and such with a swipe of his wand, and retreated from the bedroom.

Now it was only himself and Potter in the house. Severus snuffed out a few candles and poured himself a glass of the whiskey. He felt that he deserved it after the day's events. He was sure Dumbledore would agree.

He was about to sit down when he noticed that Potter's eyes were wide open, staring at the ceiling. Surprise and annoyance filled him. Did Pritchard not give him enough Dreamless Sleep Potion? Severus placed his glass on the cabinet. It was only a single move, but it startled the boy.

"How can a once fearless Gryffindor turn into a scared little mouse as you are now?" His words punctured the silence like crisp new snowflakes falling for the first time.

"Fuck—"

He forced the boy's mouth to suddenly seal on itself. He seemed panicked and Severus enjoyed mocking him. It was his revenge on James.

Severus and Bellatrix had been the Dark Lord's favourites until the boy pushed passed them, slithering his way through the ranks like a giant snake. There was always an element of jealousy. Severus had experienced an envy which had run rife with James Potter, now passing onto his son.

Potter could never truly know the secrets Severus carried. They were both masters at Occlumency. But there was an unwritten rule to never speak of this ability to the Dark Lord. So neither would risk betraying each other's lives, for then their own lives would end as well.

"Manners, Potter… swearing is not allowed in my house."

The boy mumbled, unable to speak until the curse was lifted. "Why did you come in here anyway? Felt the urge to sing me a lullaby?"

Severus stiffened up. "I've come with some fairly interesting news about Bellatrix. And I also have news the Dark Lord wants you to hear. Which do you want to hear first?"

"Dark Lord." Potter slowly retreated into his pillow. "What did you tell him?"

"You've been demoted. You're below us—"

 _"Below you?"_ Surprised, Potter suddenly looked a little confused. "Since when have I lost my rank—? _Fuck!_ You told him what I said to you? You bastard!" He started to thrash in bed. "Let go of this fucking spell!"

Severus shook his head. "Actually, I didn't say anything... as much as I want to see you within an inch of death, I never tell anything."

"Then how did he—?"

"He figured it out himself," Severus replied smoothly. "He did ask me if you had been... _on a mission_ for him _._ I said you never revealed anything of that nature or gave me any cryptic messages to tell him."

"Yeah, I would've given you a message to send him if..." Potter swore. "I want back in—I want to be at the top of command!"

"The Dark Lord disapproves of weakness, and getting caught displeased him. You let your procrastination come between you and his orders." _Whatever they were..._ Death Eaters didn't speak of their individual missions to anyone.

Potter tensed his jaw, jutting it out. "What have you got on Bellatrix?"

"Actually, I will tell you tomorrow now. But first you need a sleeping potion"

"I don't need—"

"Yes you do. You need rest."

"Since when do you care if I need sleep or not?" the boy spat, trying to wriggle his way out of bed.

Severus snorted as he poured the potion into a goblet. "You're right, I don't care, but you are still the Dark Lord's servant and my ally despite our… _mutual_ differences. It's my duty to protect those on our side and that unfortunately includes you."

"That makes me feel all warm and fuzzy."

"By the way, do you hide your scars, Potter?"

The boy almost touched his forehead. "Some... why?"

"Just wondering if you have a curse scar..."

"Curious, aren't you?" he said slyly.

 _I'm not, but some are wondering,_ Severus thought. "Why would you hide it?"

"Because it's too visible!" he hissed. "Are you going to tell me about Bella?"

Severus paused for a moment as though he was deliberating on the information he had found out only an hours before. "I'm telling you tomorrow."

"Stop undermining me!" the boy yelled. "You come in here taunting me and I can't even defend myself."

"Ahh, feeling vulnerable are you? You should be used to it by now."

"WHAT'S THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN?" Enraged now, Potter pulled and kicked at his blankets, unable to free himself.

"You should sleep now," he drawled as the boy struggled.

He heard a bell jingle from within the house, but he ignored it for a moment, even though it was an intruder alarm going off.

Before Potter could protect himself, Severus wrenched his jaw open, tipping in the potion against his will. The boy spluttered and coughed.

"Bastard…" Potter mumbled. His eyelids were now heavy with sleep.

Severus sighed. "Thank you for pointing that out for the umpteenth time. Remember, you are beneath me now. I can make your life just as miserable as those Atoners did."

"Cunt…" the boy slurred, before sleep finally took hold.

He watched the boy's chest rising and falling before he thought it was safe to retreat from the room. He turned around and tensed when he saw the tall, wizened old figure at the doorway. It wasn't Dumbledore.

"That was highly entertaining," the wizard chortled, moving toward the bed. He twisted his silver goatee, observing the boy's features. "So this is the great Harry Potter. The Dark Mage of our time…" He prodded the boy's cheek with one long finger, Then he brushed away the boy's fringe. "He doesn't seem fierce in person—"

"You shouldn't be here, Grindelwald," Severus said through gritted teeth. "I've had enough visitors for one day."


	9. Refuge

 

**Refuge**

It was early morning, and if a Muggle looked out of their window now, they would see three very strange, dirty kids on the footpath. That is, if they could see through the mist at all.

They had broken into a backyard shed for the night, and now they were on the move again. Pettigrew's kids had their hoods up and cloaks drawn around them tightly. Harry pulled his jacket up as well.

"W-w-where to n-n-now?" asked the tiny girl, trying to stifle a yawn.

"Hold my hands," he said. They reluctantly obeyed him. "We're going to walk a little."

"How far?" Tony growled.

"A couple of blocks," Harry replied, ignoring his desperate hunger. He hadn't eaten in days. His stomach was making more noise than the garbage truck down the road.

"My feet hurt," the girl sniffled.

"Shut it, Ash. Just do what he says."

At once, Ashley did what she was told, sniffling in silence. Harry looked at the little girl. Her face hung low under her wet cloak. She looked like a lost soul in this world. Tony was different. Harry caught a glimpse of a different spirit. The burgeoning teen was just as lost as his sister, and broken, was fuelled by anger, hate and grief. Harry was suddenly reminded of himself in fifth year when he had experienced so much of the same emotions.

He wondered what life would've been like for the two children if they had not been captured. _Happier, that's for sure_.

All that he wanted to do at their age, before he ever dreamed that he was a wizard, was to get a job, any job, to make sure he'd always have a roof over his head and food in his stomach. He also wanted a big bedroom with a large bed, clothes that fit him perfectly, and friends and family who loved him. More importantly, Harry had dreamt of getting far away from the Dursleys.

Now he was going back to the very place that had perpetuated such misery in his world.

As they walked, he started to notice strange things in this Mirror Muggle world. When then mist shifted over one street, Harry saw that all the front doors had a yellow poster stuck on.

"Dad once showed me one of these posters," remarked Tony.

Upon closer inspection, Harry read:

_By Order of the_

_British Government,_

_Department of Defence_

_and the_

_Department of Health_

_We declare this house to be free of all contagions and terrorist agents._

_It is hereby declared safe to live in._

"Dementors, Death Eaters, death…" Tony whispered, seeing how intrigued Harry was by the poster. "This street's been cleared by the Muggles. There must have been an attack not long ago."

They rounded a corner into a very familiar street of manicured lawns and little houses that looked like dull brown cupboard boxes. Harry thought that these horrible Muggles would be a much safer option than living among wizards. They stopped beside number two and the children stared at him, waiting for direction.

It was around seven in the morning and Uncle Vernon would have left for work already, so it would be safer to deal with the rest.

Taking a very deep and long breath, Harry walked into the front yard, up the few little steps that were guarded by two large hydrangea bushes, and then stood face to face with the white door with a large gold number four. He noticed that the house had a yellow sign declaring it safe. He wondered what had happened here.

"Is something wrong?" Tony asked.

Shaking his head, he finally summoned up all the courage he could muster. He would rather face Voldemort now than ask the Dursleys for safe refuge.

After knocking, a dog barked from within the house. For a wild second Harry hoped to God it wasn't Aunt Marge's dearly beloved pit bull. A woman called for the dog to back off. At least she sounded like his Aunt Petunia.

The door opened and it took several moments before Petunia realised who had decided to visit. She gasped, and then tried to slam the door shut. Harry regrettably, and with a lot of pain, had wedged his foot in between the frame and the door, making Aunt Petunia yelp in fear and her dog growl in defence.

"Get away from me you _murderer_!" she said with such disdain, Harry was slightly taken aback.

"Aunt Petunia, listen to me, we—"

He prised the door open and pushed himself into the hallway, both children following behind. Petunia ran behind a cabinet and brandished a wooden coat stand full of coats at him. Harry backed off a little and Ashley squeaked, burying her head into his jacket.

"Get out of my house, NOW! Or I'll call those _Aero_ guard people!"

"They're called Aurors—put that stand down! I just want to talk—we're not going to hurt—"

Aunt Petunia was having none of it. She threw a figurine at him which missed his head by an inch. Ashley shrieked, poking her wand at Petunia. The dog tried to bite Harry's leg but managed to sink his teeth into his jeans instead.

"NO! No spells," he warned as he shook the dog off.

Aunt Petunia shrieked and bolted towards the kitchen. She slammed the kitchen door with a crash, its glass panes breaking.

"I'm calling the police!" Petunia screamed through the now windowless door, wielding a knife. "Get any closer and I'll call them."

Harry sighed with great frustration.

Tony looked at him with a smirk playing on his lips. Harry knew he was taking pleasure at his failure to calm a Muggle woman down.

"What do we do now?" the boy asked. "Do you want us to Imperio her, _Mentor_?"

"Go wait in the living room," Harry snapped, pointing them in the right direction. They followed his order. He was going to have a _nice_ chat with his Aunt Petunia.

* * *

Severus woke as his small house elf, Dimples, pulled the curtains back to reveal the grey weather beyond. Dimples had set a tray of potions beside the boy's bed and left without another word.

"Wake up now." He shook the boy.

Potter moaned, rubbing his eyes. It seemed to take a long while before he realised where he was and what was happening. Severus grew very impatient and gave him a sharp slap on the cheek.

"I'M AWAKE!" Potter yelled, covering his face with both arms.

"You need to take your potions."

"An alarm clock would've been better," he snarled, massaged his cheek.

Severus ignored him and passed the boy a goblet filled with orange liquid that would help his wounds heal. "Just drink."

He cringed in pain as he sat up on his pillows. His jet black hair tumbled around his face, but he obeyed Severus and took the goblet, cupping it gently with both hands. His face was pulled into a disgusted expression as he tasted it. "Wish it was pumpkin juice…" he whispered between difficult gulps.

It was in these rare moments that Severus thought he could glimpse the boy before he became a ruthless Death Eater.

"How are you feeling?"

The boy shrugged. "Much better, I think."

"Good. Now take this potion." Severus handed him another goblet, this time filled with a creamy liquid. "It is the Nutrient Potion."

Potter took it and drank slowly. "I could drink this one all day."

"Don't, unless you want to end up the size of a blue whale." Severus made the boy drink two more potions. One for infections and another to replenish any blood lost. "Now, I have news," he said, as he took away the last goblet.

He moved toward the window, staring into the mist. Dementors… Every day Muggles end up unexplainably turned into living vegetables, baffling and frightening the Muggle community. Sometimes when a page from a Muggle newspaper drifting in the wind wound up outside of Severus's house, he would read the articles with interest. There were headlines like: _Terror in London, 100 People Dead… Mass Destruction in Glasgow, Terrorists leave Green Skull in Sky above Buckingham_ _Palace… Big Ben Crumbles… Prime Minister struck with Contagion, Dead… Mist Spreading to Norway…_

Potter ran his fingers through his hair before he took the time to stretch his arms.

"Did you hear me?"

"Yes, quite clearly." His green eyes locked onto Severus's for a moment.

"It seems that you stole Bella's Conditioned last night."

Potter pulled the bed sheets over his bandaged body. Severus saw a flitting glimpse of victory before he narrowed his eyes. "Did I?" he asked with a falsely sweet, innocent tone.

"Yes, strange, considering that you've been in bed all night last night. The wards in this house would've triggered an alarm if you had somehow escaped, and Sigmus was in this room, healing you—"

_"Escaped?"_ he questioned slowly, looking as though he was drinking in the word. "Have I become your prisoner?"

Severus ignored the question. "This person looked like you. He was very much an uncanny resemblance, yet wearing glasses."

"The children are safe, and my eyesight gets blurry from time to time…"

He believed Potter. He found round glasses in the boy's Azkaban tunic. "How did you do it?"

"Er, does Bella know I've been demoted?"

"No. She still assumes you are higher than her in rank," Severus replied. "That's why she gave you the children. She'll know by now, so you better stay out of her way."

"I'll do my best. Listen, when exactly did our master demote me?"

"He had rearranged the hierarchy only hours before you stole the children... when I spoke to him."

"I would rather have been punished in Hogwarts than suffer this."

"He is unhappy with you, Potter, and your power has inflated your ego." Severus crossed his arms. "You procrastinated and its cost you your position. So why didn't you go straight to him? This time tell me the truth. I promise I won't say a thing."

"Why are you interested? Haven't you heard it's rude to ask?"

_Because I promised to protect you, you stupid twit._

Potter sighed. "I wanted to taste freedom, before it was gone again."

"No, that's not the truth. You enjoy being a Death Eater—you've enjoyed its rewards."

Potter snorted. "Tell me Snape, do you feel free?"

Severus curled his lip. The boy did have a point though. He leaned forwards, staring into his green eyes. "What were you _really_ doing?"

"Nothing." His nostrils flared. "I just needed to… to figure out where my life was heading, and see my—"

"Your sister. Did you want to finish off—?"

"I want to condition her."

"The Dark Lord will not allow you three children to condition." Severus was repulsed. "You know a few days in hiding won't halt your descent into hell."

"True, but I just wanted to feel like me again, away from everyone." Potter turned away, his eyes slowly closing.

_You wanted to abduct your sister but feel free…_ Severus resisted the urge to curse the information out of him. "And how do you feel now?" he asked calmly. "Was your demotion worth it?"

"Well, it feels like I've just been on a holiday, so yeah." He smirked. "I'll sneak past you and darling Bellatrix again. Just you watch."

"The Dark Lord will not kill you because of your subordination taking the children."

"Oh that's so nice of him." Potter looked up again.

"I'm sure he still has use for you."

"That makes me feel so valued."

"Mockery of the Dark Lord is treason." _Exactly like his father._ His son was just as arrogant, sarcastic and insufferable. "He'll let you keep the children if indeed it was really you who took—"

"Yes, I stole them." Potter licked his lips.

"How?"

The boy rested his head on the pillow.

Severus whipped out his wand and pointed it into Potter's face. "Where are they?" It had the desired effect straight away. "Or, would you like me to _Crucio_ —"

"Safe," the boy replied, glaring at the wand apprehensively. "Seriously, I'm not that scared boy you bullied during my very first day of Potions class anymore."

"But you are still an arrogant brat, Potter. You will never change. I would really like to know how you left this house without me and Sigmus knowing—"

"How do you think I did it?" he drawled.

"I think you Imperioused the old drunk after he divulged the sensitive information of Bella's missing children. You're powerful enough to turn off the alarms in this house and decided to make a run for it.

"Maybe you should've put special wards in my room to prevent me from escaping," he laughed.

"You always had a competitive streak against Bella. This was the perfect opportunity to steal them. Sometimes I wonder if you lust after her."

The colour in Potter's face grew red and his hands turned to white knuckled fists. Anger was an understatement in the young wizard's face, as his green eyes blazed in rage. "You don't know what you're talking about."

Severus raised both eyebrows. He knew in the early days of Potter's induction to their circle that he was forced by the Dark Lord to be under the guidance of Bellatrix Lestrange, but how far and how profound had her guidance been? They hated each other with such zeal. He knew there was no lust, no passion between the two. He just wanted to taunt the boy. Yet, it seemed he had unwittingly hit upon a raw nerve, scraping a secret buried beneath the dirt. If only he could flip the pages of Potter's mind.

"Ahh… lovers' quarrels," he mocked.

Then Potter viciously said, "That bitch _conditioned_ me—"

"You never needed to be."

Death Eaters who willingly took the Dark Mark had no need of conditioning. They were simply mentored by a Death Eater, depending on blood status. And to be mentored by one of the Dark Lord's inner circle or the Notorious Thirteen, would be the greatest honour bestowed on new Death Eaters.

"Yeah, you're right, that wasn't the right word to use, but it didn't stop her from taunting me..."

"If you were given to me, I would have loved to make you suffer."

"I know." Potter glared. "I never wanted her to be my Mentor."

Severus resisted the urge to just grab hold of the boy's skull and Legilimens him until he screamed for mercy. "I don't want to know what she did to you in the past; I just want to know how this all happened under my roof last night. I am responsible for you now and the crimes you commit."

"The Pettigrew children are safe. When I got back here, I Obliviated Pritchard and feigned sleep."

It was quite plausible that Potter had committed the treason, but it unsettled him. The house had no need for wards against Apparating and powerful spells, as all Death Eater homes were under a Fidelius Charm; usually it was the Dark Lord himself who was the Secret Keeper. It was to keep an eye on his army.

Severus gazed around the room; he would need to put Anti-Apparating charms within the house and wards in this very room to stop the boy from using powerful spells.

It was interesting, though, that Lord Grindelwald had also known the whereabouts of his house. Dumbledore was also Severus's Secret Keeper, before the Dark Lord insisted that his army select him to guard their locations. Severus couldn't refuse for obvious reasons. Powerful adjustments had been made to the charm to allow his master to know.

There was one thing about this war that Severus could not deny: that new and interesting spells had been created by both sides of the war, for better and worse.

There's no doubt Dumbledore had given Grindelwald the information. But why? It incensed him greatly. Dumbledore had no right to put him in far greater danger than he already was. Now he had to protect himself from another Dark Lord. And what was the headmaster up to with Lord Grindelwald? All that Dumbledore had told him was that he had helped him escape.

"Potter, before your escape, did you remember anyone odd in Azkaban?"

"No. Half my cell had been blasted away, and the Atoners guarding the corridor were all dead or unconscious. There was no one around."

"I think I know who helped you."

Potter blinked, straightening up on the pillows again. "Go on…"

"Grindelwald."

The boy laughed out loud. "Why the hell would he do that?"

"I'd like to know that as well." Severus remembered Grindelwald prancing about Potter's bed, twisting his goatee. He did not say a word for awhile, but seemed content to stare at the boy. There was an air of frivolity and invincibility to the wizard, like his years in prison did not affect him one bit. He left just as quickly as he had arrived. Like a mirage.

Straight after, Severus sent Dumbledore an angry message, and he scoured the house for any of Grindelwald's calling cards he'd left behind. None were present. And there still hadn't been a reply from Dumbledore yet.

Potter rubbed his temples. "I now have a headache and I'm really tired. I want you to leave."

He did not move.

"Do you mind?" Potter yelled in frustration.

"Yes I do mind, ever since you knocked on my front door!"

Scowling, Potter watched as Severus snapped his black robes back, striding across the bedroom to the door. "Tomorrow, you'll start walking and regaining strength."

"Why are you taking care of me like this?"

"It is the Dark Lord's order."

" _He went to you, Severus? Finally. A wise move…a very wise move…. Make sure you keep a close eye on him," the Dark Lord told him. "And tell him, I do not take procrastination kindly."_

"Does it have something to do with my mother?"

Severus turned around slowly, hands clenching and unclenching. "That's for me to know and for you to never find out."

"I know a lot more than you think."

* * *

It was late morning before Harry could get through to his aunt. He couldn't blame her for thinking he was some crazed murderer like his Mirror. But times were desperate, and for the sake of the Pettigrew's children, he needed refuge.

As Aunt Petunia continued screaming, her small pet dog was barking like mad. Harry managed to shove the canine into the cupboard under the stairs. The only reason the neighbours didn't come calling was because he had discreetly placed a Silencing Charm around the house.

"Aunt Petunia, please," he pleaded as he ducked, just avoiding a hit from a flying frying pan. Before Petunia could throw something else, he forced his way into the kitchen, where his aunt now wielded a fish casserole.

"You're here to kill me and my family," she yelled, holding the casserole above her head.

Her eyes were bulging, and her horsey face displayed so much fear that it made Harry recoil. He had seen fear in the Dursleys whenever anything magic waved itself under their noses, and when Dudley had almost been killed by a Dementor. This fear, however, was worse.

"No, I'm just here because those children you saw are hungry, scared and injured," he calmly stated. _And I just need some time to think about things_ , he breathed. "Look, I know Harry is dangerous—"

" _Harry?_ HARRY? YOU _ARE_ HARRY!" Petunia screeched, chucking the casserole.

He jumped out of the way, colliding side-on with the fridge. The dish left a large dent on the wall, but failed to even shatter. Frustrated, and feeling more alone than ever, he watched Petunia grab a handful of utensils, holding a fork as if she was about to play darts.

" _I'm not_ — it's a long story. If I was really here to kill you I would have done it already! Throwing plates and knives wouldn't be a match for any wizard."

Aunt Petunia scowled at the word.

" _Please,_ have some heart. Their names are Ashley and Anthony. You've seen their faces. They need help."

"The-they're _freaks_ like you!" she spat, a meat cleaver now dangling precariously above her head.

"Magical like me, yes, but they're still children."

Aunt Petunia huffed. She seemed like she was about to argue that fact, however, she bit her tongue, refraining.

Harry continued, feeling like he was finally getting through to her. "Even though you hated me, you'd still patch me up when I'd hurt myself," he said, with slight bitterness.

As a small boy, when he had suffered a grazed knee or a cut, Aunt Petunia would begrudgingly pull him up on the table, pound disinfectant onto the wound, then slap on a bandaid before shooing him out to do his chores again. Meanwhile, if the same had happened to Dudley, she'd bundle him up in bandages and rush him off the A&E department. Harry felt hurt and envy at the fact that his cousin had a mother who loved him.

Petunia narrowed her eyes. "I've never—"

"Still, it's a long story. But if it _ever_ did happen, you would help me." He never felt like using the Imperious Curse on anyone until now.

"I would never help freaks—"

"The point is, I'm asking you for your help, politely. Please? You might hate to help me, but I know you'd do it because deep down… deep down I know you must love your sister…"

After a moment that seemed like an eternity in which Petunia seemed to purse all the blood out of her lips, she banged the cleaver onto the kitchen counter and gave him a piercing look. "I don't trust you."

"You don't have too."

There was another long pause, which made him want to lash out, to beg, to do anything to stay safely under her roof.

"Fine! I'll let _you_ and those _freaks_ stay here until Vernon and Dudders return from Australia in two weeks. I'll be watching you. If you dare try and kill me, I'll call the police, and I'll be armed."

Harry knew she'd be no match against any sort of magical attack, but he smiled. "Thank you."

"I have a few conditions."

"Sure, whatever..."

"I don't want the three of you to set foot outside the house. Don't make so much noise. And no freakiness what so ever, do you understand?"

"Yes. Thanks. Thank you so much."

Petunia gave him a sideways glance, a look that screamed of mistrust. "I'm only doing this because you saved Dudley's life last year."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "I did?"

"Yes," she snapped, "from those Death people remember? A week after your brother died. They tormented us, the entire street, and Dudders was flung about and then one of them propelled him hundreds of feet into the air and dropped him. That's when you appeared, and saved my baby from hitting the ground. It was horrible. They killed his girlfriend…" There were tears falling on her face now. "My poor Dudders… he hasn't been the same since that day. He's been in and out of school ever since… and he'll need to repeat seventh year…"

He was very confused. Why kill his brother one day and save Dudley's life the next? It made no sense whatsoever. But he didn't have time to investigate. Hermione and Ron would've had a new mystery to help him investigate if they were here, though on second thought Hermione would say his priorities were wrong and to find a way home first.

"I never believed you did it anyway..."

Harry had to sit down as he was feeling a little light-headed. He wasn't sure if it was hunger or shock.

"What happened after the attack? Were you helped?"

Petunia sniffled. "We had both _your_ people and the government fix things up here. Came as a shock that the British Government knew what was really behind all the attacks and this damnable mist… We weren't allowed to live in our houses until all it was all cleared of magic and those _Dementeds_ that patrolled afterwards… Mr Dumbledore helped us for awhile…"

He wanted to ask if she had voiced her opinion on Mirror Harry to Dumbledore, like she had told him just now, but Petunia continued to speak.

"…The three of you can use the spare bedroom upstairs." She eyed him suspiciously as she placed a first aid kit on the table. "I'll give you shelter and food, but don't expect me to mend their wounds."

"Thanks," Harry said. He wasn't going to push Petunia's hospitality any more than she wanted too.

Behind her, he spotted a picture of Dudley as a baby hanging on the wall. Dudley grew up chubby, but not the same as in his world, though Harry guessed, still spoilt. As he grew, the pictures showed something different. The Mirror cousin became burly, strong and athletic.

He turned away disinterested, and he just didn't feel like talking anymore as his mind drifted off again, trying to decipher a million questions he had learnt about his Mirror so far.

Harry started when Petunia snapped her fingers, exasperated by his lack of attention. "Have you been listening to a word I've said?"

Before he could reply, there was a tentative knock on the kitchen door. "Ha-Harry?" squeaked Ashley. "Is everything ok?"

He walked over as his aunt scowled. Ashley could sense the distaste and fear from the woman and bowed her head. "I don't like her," she whispered.

Smiling lightly, he whispered, "Me neither, but she's our only chance to be safe. She said we can stay as long as we're quiet and cause no trouble." He looked up and found Tony sitting on the stairs, watching him in the dark. "Come on."

Harry picked up the first aid kit and ushered Ashley towards the stairs to where her brother was. The dog in the cupboard started growling again. He kicked the door in response.

After showing Ashley and Tony the spare bedroom, Harry opened the bathroom door. It finally seemed like the light at the end of a tunnel. Tony gingerly sat on the bathtub, while Ashley looked around the ghastly kitsch pink tiles and shower curtains.

"She's a weird woman," Tony said.

"She's just frightened of us."

Ashley turned on the tap in the sink and started to drink the water. Harry couldn't help but feel disgust at the state of the children. He felt as though he was seeing them for the very first time. They were filthy, hurt and so starved.

Harry took a hand towel from the rack and soaked it in warm, running water. He sat Ashley down and carefully removed the muck from her face. He tried to do the same for Tony, though the boy struggled for a while and eventually Harry gave up.

"I'll get some clothes while you two get washed." They nodded. As Harry left the bathroom the children began to undress with uncertainty on their faces.

It took awhile before he could find some suitable clothes for the children to wear, even with Aunt Petunia's reluctant help. Boxes of Dudley's old shoes and clothes from when he was a boy were in a cupboard. Two of Dudley's enormous shirts would be enough for the children's nightwear. Harry made up the bed for them in the smallest bedroom of the house, his old bedroom.

He was waiting outside of the bathroom when the door creaked open. "Harry," Tony said. "We're done."

Tony hugged the fluffy white towel as it cocooned him. He looked so fragile, so tiny without the grime. However there would be no way to wash off the hideous facial scars. The boy seemed very self conscious about it.

"Don't look at me like that," he stated, disappearing into the bathroom again.

Harry was engulfed in a cloud of steam and heat in the bathroom. The children clung to each other in their towels. He placed the pile of clothes on the stool and unlocked the first aid kit, before starting to treat their wounds.

The children scrunched their faces as he cleaned cuts and grazes, dabbed Betadine and ointment and lastly dressed them in bandaids and bandages. "Do you have any broken bones?" Harry asked.

Tony shook his head, speaking for his sister as well. "Is there healing magic you could use? We haven't had any training in it."

"No. I didn't learn how to heal with magic, sorry. I just know the Muggle way of things. If Hermione was here, she would've fished out her bottle of Dittany from her bag. That stuff helps a lot."

"Oh…" The boy was disappointed.

"Who's Hermione?" Ashley asked.

"She's the cleverest witch in my year and one of my best friends." His voice drifted off, because thinking about Hermione made him sad.

Tony cleared his throat. "I thought, maybe, you could help me with these scars." He touched his face lightly.

Harry kept quiet, in truth he didn't have anything to say about it. He wished he could help, but he wasn't sure if there was anything to help the boy.

"Tony, are you blind in your right eye?"

The boy nodded. His right eye was white and cloudy, just like Jessica's.

He looked like Peter, the more Harry reflected. The boy's nose was like his father's and his good eye a watery blue. The hair that grew on the unburnt side of his face was blonde.

"What happened to you?"

"I don't want to talk about it," the boy growled, pulling up the harsh defences that Harry had noticed when he first met them.

"He's just asking," Ashley said quietly. "Bellatrix used fire when he was naughty—"

"Shut up!" Tony shouted.

" _Hey_ , you shouldn't talk to her like that."

"I want to get dressed now." Tony yanked a shirt and pulled it on, before slipping out and into the spare bedroom.

Ashley sniffled, staring at the doorway, hoping her brother would enter again. He never did. "He's always mean to me," she murmured, rubbing her eyes.

"Maybe he worries about you too much. He's just trying his best to protect you."

As he discarded the packaging and swabs into the little waste bin, Ashley dressed herself and looked into the mirror as she stood on her toes. Unlike her bother, she did not look like Peter, except for her blue eyes.

"You did a very brave thing escaping."

"The door was wide open and no one was around." The girl nodded. "Tony didn't want to go, but I made him."

Ashley sighed, sadness washing over her face. "Harry, will my hair grow back?" She gingerly touched the wounds on her head. Her bristled brown hair was just beginning to peek out of her scalp.

"I think so," he replied. "What was your mother's name?" Harry asked, deciding to remind the girl of happier times as she stared into the mirror.

"Orla. She was an Irish witch. She used to comb my hair every night, and tell me stories about princes and princesses." Ashley answered, putting a bandaid on her wrist.

"Listen, you should get into bed. I'll bring up some lunch for you and your brother to eat a little later, all right?"

"Thanks, Harry, for everything. I thought you were bad, but I like you now."

He smiled, feeling like he was gaining her trust a little more. "What does Tony think?"

Ashley frowned. "He still thinks you're tricking us." With those last words she left, leaving him alone in the bathroom.

It felt like a few minutes before Harry too stopped staring at himself in the mirror and undressed, stepping into the shower and just feeling the glorious warm water on his body. He missed a good soaking wash. He watched the brown water wash off, while the scent of soap clung to his nostrils like an old memory. He felt the tight knots in his neck uncoil a little as he massaged in the soap. It must have been all the pent up emotions the year had bundled up.

Inevitably, his mind drifted towards home. He quickly stopped, trying to blink away thoughts of his friends. In the end, he gave up. His thoughts turned towards them. He wondered what they were doing. He wondered how far Voldemort had gotten—the Horcruxes—how many had died.

* * *

Harry was dressed and standing in the doorway of the smallest bedroom in the house with a plate of sandwiches in one hand and pen and paper in his other. He couldn't even remember leaving the bathroom and making the food as he stood watching Pettigrew's children sleeping, arms entwined protectively over the other. They looked so peaceful, as children should be.

Harry bit into his sandwich, and suddenly he remembered how hungry he was. The thought of corned beef never seemed more appealing than now. He sat down cross-legged against the bed and ate, occasionally stopping when either of the children twitched or moaned from a bad dream.

When Harry was done, he wrote a letter to Dumbledore pleading for help, and hopefully in a few hours, an owl would appear soon outside his window. Owls somehow knew when a wizard needed a letter sent.

He lay down on the floor, fluffed up a pillow and watched the cool misty sky through the lace curtains before finally, exhaustion took its grip and he fell asleep.

But his sleep was not peaceful.

_He stood in a dark house. The curtains were drawn, bathing the house in a dark red glow. Glimpses of Death Eaters fluttered within his dream. He saw Snape, Lucius Malfoy, whose left side of his face was deeply scarred, looking more menacing than in his own world and a witch with tattoos on every inch of her face. He saw Voldemort draped in a black cloak embroidered in gold, the hood so far down that it covered every inch of his face except his chin. Voldemort's wand snaked out of his robes, pointing it in Harry's direction._

_Voldemort's laugh shattered the silence. Harry bowed, and when he stood up, he saw himself in the mirror to his side. He looked different and so tired of everything and everyone. Snape pulled his Mirror up by the gruff of his neck and he was hurtled towards Voldemort's feet. The toe of the Dark Lord's dragon hide boot forced his chin up and Harry was forced to stare into Voldemort cold red eyes._

_There was something different about the Voldemort of this world. His features seemed greyish and brittle. He looked frailer, though his strength deceived this notion._

_It was in that moment that blinding white pain coursed through Harry's entire body as it was happening to his Mirror. He screamed and screamed, but there was no end to the agony. He wished he would die._ _The pain ended and he was given a blissful reprieve._

_"Leave us," Voldemort hissed to the others. The Death Eaters retreated, leaving his Mirror alone with him._

_"You failed me, Harry…"_

_"I sorry, I'll try better this tim—"_

_"Too many times." Voldemort cursed him again with a lazy flick of his wand._

Harry bolted upright. He instinctively touched the lightning bolt scar, tracing its very contours. It hadn't hurt an ounce since he had travelled into this Mirror Universe until now. Even with Voldemort right in the middle of his dream, his scar had not pained him as bad as those in his own world. It was a dull prickling sensation, like it had been the ghost of his real connection with the Dark Lord.

_Of course_ , thought Harry. _If I have a connection with my Mirror, I might as well have a connection with Mirror Voldemort… but, but wouldn't my connection stop with a different Voldemort if it had only been a link created by a backfired curse?_

Questions buzzed in his head like frenzied bees. But he didn't want to ponder more about the frightening ramifications of this connection in this world and more importantly in his own.

He sat up drenched in sweat. The room was glowing red from the setting sun. He shook his head, realising that the prospect of seeing into his Mirror's mind scared him even more than Voldemort himself. He was used to Voldemort and his evils, though not his Mirror's.

"Are you ok, Harry?" Ashley asked.

He found the girl staring at him with big blue eyes. He moved his fingers away from the scar. "Yes, I'm fine. It was just a bad dream."

The little girl grimaced, averting her eyes. "I have plenty of those."

_I bet you do._ He tucked the little girl in, and then made sure Tony was asleep. "Is there anything you'd like to do tomorrow, you know, to make you feel better?"

She bit her lip, before widening her eyes. "Can I draw again?"

"Of course, whatever you like." Harry handed her some supplies.

She smiled and closed her eyes. Harry made sure she was sleeping before he stepped outside the room, wincing when his scar hurt.

Voldemort was severely angry with his Mirror. Harry gripped the balustrade as his scar continued to hurt.

He made his way through the Dursley's house. He heard his aunt chopping vegetables in the kitchen rather vigorously. The little dog in the hallway growled at his approach.

Petunia turned around, holding the knife up. "What do you want now?"

He gripped the table as that strange feeling overcame him again. "Nothing."

"You look like you need a cup of tea." She went back to hacking her vegetables for her stew and did not lift a single finger to put the kettle on to boil.

He looked around, wincing in pain. The glass and broken items had been cleared away. Harry would've offered to repair everything, but he knew his aunt would've objected.

Harry needed to be distracted from the uneasy feelings he felt so he asked questions, hoping to find out a little more about this world. "Are you in contact my mother?"

Petunia's knife paused. "No, not since…" She tensed. "I do not have contact with the _freaks_ of your world."

"Er, how… how is Dudley?" He figured he should've started with a question that would've softened her a little.

Petunia grabbed a handful of chopped carrots and dropped them into the pot. "He has recovered from his injuries, but he was almost expelled from Smeltings. Vernon thought it was best to get him away from here, and take him somewhere for a holiday to harden him up again."

"Right."

"Your people killed our neighbours, Dudley's friends, and tortured many. We were so terrified. Out of all the streets in the world, why pick this one? Was it some sick joke from your side? What did you tell them to make them come here?" she spat.

"Aunt Petunia, they all know that I have Muggle relatives—"

"I'll never forget the look on your face when you tried to wake Dudley."

"Why's that?"

"It was as though you were torn. I can't describe it." Petunia closed her eyes. "It was as though you were half happy, half sad. It was only a split second, but I could see it burning in your eyes… then you knocked me unconscious."

He could clearly sense the suspicion in his aunt.

"What happened to your brother?" she asked.

He looked away. "I don't know what happened to me."

"You're keeping secrets." Petunia pursed her lips. "Two days after the attack on my street, I went to your brother's funeral. That was the last I saw of your mother… Your father almost cursed me when I mentioned my doubts. And Mr Dumbledore walked away from me. Everyone brushed me off, saying that Harry had made a mistake not killing my son." She shook her head.

Harry thought that was a bit harsh. "What's the Muggle—I mean—your world without us like?"

"Horrible. This mist," Petunia waved at the foggy weather outside the kitchen window, "has been a phenomenon in the U.K for many years. It's quite rare that we get two days in a row without it clouding our vision, and some say it's getting worse and thicker. It's spreading to the continent. From what I heard from your lot, it's because of those Dementeds breeding."

_"Dementors_ ," said Harry, gently correcting her.

"Yes, whatever those beasts are," she snapped. "Normal people are disappearing in record numbers. Others end up like vegetables or insane and then there are people who turn up dead—bitten to shreds. Then the homes, buildings are destroyed.

"The Government knows and is terrified – but they made up a story that it's terrorism from the Green Skulls.

"Two Prime Ministers have been killed by the Dementeds in the last twenty-eight years. People are scared and leaving the UK in droves and there's a curfew after dark. In many cities the army has been employed to keep the streets safe. What good are tanks, when they're dealing with _your lot_? No one helps us. The U.N turns a blind eye, and the other countries don't help us much because they know that only wizards can fight wizards. The bad side is so powerful, so they kill us for fun.

"It's mass murder, Harry. It's genocide of the Normal folk." She pointed her finger into his direction. "It's your people destroying our world!"

So this is life if Neville had died and if Voldemort had never been vanquished. Harry was shivering. "That's just horrible."

She laughed. "What an understatement." Petunia stirred the pot, the gentle steam giving off a pleasant savoury aroma. "Now, if you please, I'd like to enjoy my dinner alone." But she did ladle a bowl full of stew for him to eat. Full to the brim, which was something she never did in his world.

* * *

It was midnight at Godric's Hollow when a piercing scream rang out from Christopher's bedroom. Lily bolted out of bed. But James had gotten to their bedroom door first, and sprinted across the hallway. Her heart was pounding and she feared the worst.

James burst into his son's room, armed. But there was no Harry, or Death Eater, or Voldemort around. It was Jessica who stood at the foot of their son's bed.

Michael pushed past James, but he stopped, staring first at his brother, then his sister, and then the tension in his shoulders relaxed. He rolled his eyes. "Thanks for waking us up Chris."

"Shut up!" Chris shouted, pointing at Jessica, "she was muttering a spell at me."

James raised an eyebrow as he lifted his little girl into his arms, pulling her dark hair from her eyes. "Is that true, Jess, were you muttering an incantation?"

Lily sat on Chris's bed, and held the shaking boy in her arms. Her eyes though, were focused on her daughter.

"I thought she was a Death Eater!" His eyes were wide like saucers, not a trace of sleep still in them.

Jessica shook her head. "I'm a good girl. I'm a good girl, Daddy…" She burst into tears, and hid her face in the crook of his shoulder. "I-I was just trying to protect him."

"Protect him from what, darling? That's Mummy and Daddy's job," Lily spoke.

"This is all Harry's fault," Michael spat as he left the room. He slammed his bedroom door shut.

Lily couldn't, however, shake the feeling that something was very wrong. She couldn't shake the feeling that something was about to happen. She squeezed her youngest son's shoulder.

Half an hour, four cups of strong teas and two butterbeers later; Lily tucked her daughter into bed, and kissed her forehead. She brushed her daughter's fringe away and picked up a strand of her black hair that lay on the pillow. She pocketed the hair.

"Mummy, why do you always test my hair? Am I sick? Is it the black that smells of death that is making me sick?"

"Shhh, rest now," Lily said softly, very concerned with her child's enigmatic words. "I'm just making sure you are okay."

She was about to leave when she heard her little girl's soft voice. "Mummy."

"Yes, dear?"

"If I was bad, would you put me in Azkaban?"

"Oh, no, sweetheart, I wouldn't do that to you."

"But you put Harry in Azkaban."

Lily felt her heart squeeze. In a way, Jessica was right; why didn't she protect Harry? She should've noticed something amiss in her son before he killed, but she thought he was only exhausted, and he was secretive because there was too much he was doing for Dumbledore. Lily had known he had seen some horrible things, but whenever she asked, he rebutted her. His friends and brothers were silent on the matter and slowly but surely, Harry began pulling away from everyone, seemingly determined to finish the war.

James told her to stop worrying, and the Dumbledore was making sure he was safe. But why then had his friendships with Hermione and Ron wane and the rumours of a blossoming friendship with Draco Malfoy occur?

_"Dumbledore's got him spying on Malfoy,"_ Sirius guessed.

She was too busy with the Order, protecting everyone else, that in the end she failed to protect her own children.

Lily was so preoccupied with her thoughts that she could not remember ever getting back into bed, but as she lay there, she could tell that James was nowhere near sleep yet.

"James?'

_"Hmmm?"_

The darkness between them felt thick all of a sudden.

"I'm worried about Jessica. We should take her to St Mungo's—"

"Right, Lily. If you even set foot into St Mungo's, Voldemort will kill you."

"Honestly Ja-"

"What makes you so special? Remember, you rescued those poor children from Malfoy's secret hidey-hole? Voldemort hasn't forgotten that. And might I add, without approval by the Order in the first place."

Lily knew James had never forgotten the incident where she had found out that a group of Muggleborn children were being held captive after receiving fake Hogwarts letters. They were told to meet at a certain place, only to be abducted.

Dumbledore had refused to raid the place, ignoring Lily's protests. In the end, she banded a few of Order members together, all mothers, and rescued the children themselves. She also managed to curse Lucius so badly that he had remained scarred.

"I don't think that will happen."

"Remember what happened to Gladys Harrigan?" James said, facing Lily in the dark. "Mother to that poor boy we found dead in Cumbria? Greyback ripped him to shreds because his parents had escaped from Voldemort's indoctrination. His mother went into hysterics and went after Greyback. But he snuffed her out too, and he dropped her mangled corpse in front of the Ministry with a warning letter to all mothers."

"I don't want to hear anymore, James." Lily closed her eyes.

"I just want to know, what makes you think you can save everyone? I've lost two sons already and I don't want to lose you too."

"Severus won't let that happen to me." Why did she say that?

James's mouth opened, like a fish out of water. For a wild moment, Lily thought he might do something drastic. Lily hadn't spoken about Severus to James since they had found out he was made Potions Master at Hogwarts eighteen years previously.

But James suddenly roared in laughter. "What, Snape protecting you? Oh my God, you've gone bonkers!"

Heat rose to her cheeks. "Just because Severus hates your guts for all the abuse you put him through, doesn't mean he would betray me—"

James flung his sheets over and started pacing the bedroom. "Right, let me get this straight, Lily…" Even though it was dark, she could see him running his hands through his hair. "I know you had a _strange_ relationship with Snivellus as a kid, but are you still in contact with him?"

Lily bit her lip and didn't answer.

"Jesus, are you _fucking_ mad?" he hissed.

"James—"

"Are you having an affair with him?" he asked without consideration.

"NO!" Lily shouted, undignified. Her heart was pounding. _Oh God, oh God._ "How-how dare you even consider that!"

"Why then?"

"Be-because Severus is my only link to Harry!" There, she finally said it. Their correspondences, which had started as soon as Harry had been imprisoned, were always short and sharp, but it still felt like a dirty secret.

James was stunned and sat limply onto the bed. Lily bit her lip; she wasn't sure what to do now and how to console her husband. She wasn't sorry for her actions one bit.

"I just want to be kept updated with what Harry is up to—He's back with Voldemort now—The Mirror story was a lie. He came here to—"

"I don't want to talk about him," James yelled, lashing back. "And cut your links with that _snake_!"

James marched out of their bedroom, and Lily feeling hot tears well in her eyes. She didn't have the energy to chase after him.

"Bloody hell," Michael yelled from across the corridor. "Can anyone get some sleep tonight?"


	10. Questions

**Questions**

Potter was sleeping on the couch, twitching every so often, while the smell in the room was starting to make Severus queasy. The antique Armenian rug was covered with vomit, so he opened the window letting in crisp air and flicked his wand, cleaning the mess.

Potter yawned, covering his eyes from the light.

Severus crossed his arms, standing over the boy. "Do you remember our meeting with the Dark Lord?"

Their master had been insistent on teaching Potter a lesson about respecting other people's property. So he felt it fitting to administer the punishment himself. Usually disobedience earned a violent punishment, witnessed by a crowd of Death Eaters at Hogwarts.

Looking up, Severus was glad the boy had realised what had happened, and scowled.

"You need to wash up—"

"I don't need your help."

"Is that so?" Severus softly asked. "Then get out of my house."

"Don't look at me," he seethed, getting up wobbly. "I bet you enjoyed that little torture session."

Severus shrugged. He would be lying if he said no. "Your father always made it his mission to humiliate me. I was always his sick entertainment."

"I noticed that your Cruciatus was the longest," Potter growled. "I'm surprised Bellatrix wasn't invited."

"I'm surprised you were punished in secret." Severus grimaced.

"He said Azkaban was enough... And he was happy I disregarded Dumbledore when he visited me."

Severus had questions to ask, questions that had interested him for a long time. It was now or never and he didn't care that it was taboo against Death Eaters.

"Tell me Potter, did you know there was a rumour that it was you who had set the trap for Dumbledore to fight the Dark Lord?"

The boy scoffed at him. "If I did, then where was I at his defeat? I would've wanted a front row seat just to watch him go down."

_Why such fierce hatred for Dumbledore?_ "Yes, where were you? I also heard that you were summoned several times during the fight, but you never turned up."

Potter looked at him with a calculating expression. "I was sleeping, Snape."

A lie. "No you were not."

"How do you know?'

"I know."

Strangely, the boy didn't question this, so Severus went on. "So what were you doing, that was so important as to disobey the Dark Lord's command?"

"None of your business, _Snape_!' he gritted through clenched teeth.

But Severus continued with relish. "What about after Dumbledore fell? You went missing for months."

"I was doing research in Albania. The Dark Lord sent me there for my disobedience."

_You were doing research for Dumbledore..._ Which was the truth? He had seen Draco give Dumbledore Potter's messages during his recovery. Severus had tried getting the information from the both of them, though none would tell him the truth, giving him only answers that were just as cryptic as Potter's letters.

"Since you're throwing all caution to the wind, I might ask you some questions too," Potter snapped.

"Challenging me, Potter? I am above you, don't forget—"

"Where were _you_ during Dumbledore's defeat?"

Severus pursed his lips. "I was not summoned. Anything else you'd like to get off your chest?"

Potter rubbed his chin in thought. "I always had a suspicion that you and Dumbledore were… ah… close."

_"Close?" Likewise, Potter, likewise._

"You're working for him, aren't you?"

Severus hid his annoyance. "I'm not even going to answer that disgusting question, Potter. Dumbledore is weak, always had been."

The boy smirked in response. What else did he know about him?

"And I don't like your accusatory tone."

Potter smiled back, his eyes twinkling with malice.

"What makes you believe that I would betray the Dark Lord?"

"Because in the living room, next to the fireplace, you have a trinket box full of purple Floo powder. Only the Order has _that_ Floo powder. Why else would you use it, if it wasn't to contact Dumbledore?"

Severus sighed, not liking this one bit. He would need to hide the Floo powder. He would've, but he hadn't expected visitors. "Use your brain, Potter. Who else would I contact to make sure they're safe?"

"Oh, you really need to stop!" Potter laughed. "You know my dad won't be happy about this secret communication thing you've going." He laughed. "Why keep them safe anyway, that's suspicious—?"

"I just want your mother safe. Besides, you shouldn't care about what your parents think," Severus replied silkily. "You are not their son anymore. You are nothing but a Death Eater who has committed fratricide."

"Don't worry Snape, I won't tell the Dark Lord about your sick passion for my—"

"He knows," he hissed. "When we win this war he has promised me your mother as my reward."

Potter blinked back, unfazed by this statement. "That's if I don't kill her first... Are we finished here?" He said this with a hint of a threat in his voice.

"Not quite. Before we forget that this discussion ever happened," Severus said, straightening up. There were many more questions, like the periods of absences from Hogwarts, but they would have to wait. "How old were you when you became a Death Eater?"

"I was eleven."

"I never saw you with Bellatrix until you were sixteen."

"You saw me several times," he replied. "I was under a disguise... besides, I was a sleeper at Hogwarts for a few years. It had to be a secret until Dumbledore thought I was the one that could live up to some stupid prophecy. I'm sure you know all about that... Then the training began."

Severus was furious that Dumbledore would even tell the boy. "Right, but why change sides? You were eleven—?"

"We're done." The boy staggered off the couch. "You've asked enough—"

"Show me your curse scar!"

Potter turned around furiously. His hand swiped his forehead and a lighting bolt scar appeared. "Happy?"

"Very." Frowning, Severus watched Potter walk out. Why was Dumbledore, Grindelwald, Lily and bloody Lupin, and even Shacklebolt suddenly so interested in the boy's scars? "What does it do to you?"

"It pains me every time I think about murdering the Atoners."

"Right..." _Lies, lies, and lies._ "Don't bother getting breakfast, I have work for you." Once and for all, he could tell Lily to shut up and that her son was genuinely insane.

"What sort?" He stretched his skinny limbs and ruffled his insatiable hair, but he still looked very wary of Severus. "Does the Dark Lord have a duty for me?"

"Housework." He enjoyed the boy's expression of disgust.

"Bollocks—"

He whipped the boy's head back. "Whilst you sit your bony arse in my house, you will do. _Every. Little. Thing. I. Say._ Do you understand?" He was sick of him. Sick of his insolent behaviour, sick of the damn way he cocked his eyebrow, just like his father, and the way his raven hair stuck up. Everything about him was sinking under his skin like poisoned needles.

Potter's Adam's apple bobbed up and down.

He shook the boy by the hair. "DO YOU UNDERSTAND?"

"YES!"

Severus let him go and as the boy massaged his scalp as he fished out a list of chores. He just threw the piece of paper onto Potter's lap.

* * *

Three hours passed before he inspected the boy's progress.

Potter sat cleaning out a dirty cauldron filled with dead flobberworms. Wand work wouldn't help since the slugs seemed impenetrable with magic. The other cauldrons were in a bad state as well.

Severus sniffed the cauldrons as Potter stretched his fingers. Smirking, he pointed out that he had missed several spots and to clean it again, but this time more vigorously.

"This is house elf work, Snape. I'm not some stupid little servant of yours," Potter retorted.

"Do you remember that there was once a time when you had actually treated house elves with respect and courtesy?" Power had skewed the boy beyond his recognisable self, Severus thought.

"And since when have _you_ cared about house elves?"

"It's a simple fact, Potter: they're worth more than you are."

"Funny, our master didn't think so when he ordered their mass genocide."

"Just clean the damn cauldrons, Potter," he said exasperatedly, "I will return in an hour."

He heard the boy growl and next, he felt something smack his back. Severus looked down to see the putrid rag Potter was using to clean the cauldrons. It would take several washes to get the smell of rotting flobberworms out of his robes now.

"Pick. It. Up."

"And if I don't?"

"Well then, cleaning cauldrons will be the last thing you ever do with your hands. _Pick it up_."

"No."

"Would you like me to start treating you like a Conditioned? Or worse still, a Mudblood slave? I can put a collar around your neck right now."

"You can't Snape." He didn't pick up the stupid rag.

"You're not respecting my seniority, Potter. Remember, I am above you in rank again."

Potter was becoming more bold and unreasonable as he recovered from his imprisonment in Azkaban. Was he testing Severus for weakness? Or was he raging against his maltreatment?

" _NOW_!"

Finally, Potter's hand jerked towards the rag, but he then pulled it back in defiance.

Furious, Severus whipped his wand into the air, ready to curse, but was distracted by the doorbell suddenly ringing. He cursed loudly and shoved his wand back into his robes. He rushed out, but not before he noticed Potter letting out a breath of relief.

Severus entered the hallway to find his house elf being kicked aside by Bellatrix Lestrange. Her sister Narcissa Malfoy followed behind.

"Severus, so good to see you," Narcissa purred, gripping his arm in a strong handshake.

Bellatrix's heavily hooded eyes searched the living room, hallway and beyond. She opened door after door in a state of hysterics.

"Where is he?" Bella screeched.

He ignored her outburst. So uncontrolled and hideous, he thought.

Over the last few days, he had had more visitors than he'd ever had in his entire lifetime. He was starting to miss the quiet solitude of Spinner's End.

"Where's the thief? I want to _kill_ him!"

"Do you think that's wise," he asked in return, "considering he is still the Dark Lord's favourite?"

"I tried to stop her, Severus, but—"

"Shut up, Cissy!"

"It's wise to listen to your sister once in awhile. And how," Severus continued, "did you know Potter was here?" He stared at Narcissa, knowing that Lucius must have told her. She simply smiled coldly at him.

"Where's that filthy traitor?"

"The Dark Lord won't be happy if you—"

"We are not his equals, Snape," Bella hissed, "we are above him in rank now—back where we belong. Making Potter his right hand was a glitch as far as I'm concerned."

"I agree with you—"

"But he should've been punished in public _! I_ should've punished him. I am his MENTOR!"

"The Dark Lord says Potter had suffered enough—"

"I DON'T CARE!"

"You're angry and that's quite understandable, especially with Potter getting away lightly."

"Those children were MINE!" Bella shouted.

"We will get you some new ones, Bella," said Narcissa, patting her sister's shoulder. "Draco will help you."

But Bellatrix shrugged her away. "I want these ones, Cissy. Their parents killed my husband. I want them back."

An uneasy silence followed as the Death Eaters stood rooted on the spot. Bellatrix was breathing heavily, while Narcissa watched on.

Then Potter walked bravely into the room. "Oh, it's just you, Mentor. I thought it was a screaming banshee,"

Severus grimaced. _Idiot,_ he thought. He could've handled the situation without him.

Bellatrix suddenly launched at Potter, fingers grasping his robes, their noses almost touching.

"Where's my brood? What have you done with them? There are rumours circulating..."

"They're safe."

"Bring them to me."

"I can't."

"You can't or you won't?" Bella shook him. "You'll bring them to me or I shall pick off your family, one by one. I'll leave the best till last, you–my troubled boy–I will disembowel you while you beg for mercy."

"That seems like a boring way to go," Potter chuckled, his green eyes blazing.

"Think I'm funny, do you? Perhaps I'll take your sister. Maybe I might even condition her."

"YOU'LL LEAVE HER ALONE!" the boy screamed, hands around Bellatrix's throat.

She did not recoil as Severus expected her to, but she was excited. She seemed to absolutely love this moment of hatred and thrive on it. Bellatrix whispered something into Potter's ear. Severus caught the word, _Atoners,_ before he saw the boy grow pale.

_"You?"_ Potter drew back in shock. Bellatrix licked her lips, smiling. "You're sick!" he snarled. He smashed the witch against the wall, making her feet dangle slightly. Bellatrix looked down at his furious face, laughing.

"Now, now…" Severus interrupted, prising Potter away from Bella, wondering how profound their relationship really was. "Potter will bring the children here. I would like to see them myself," he added.

Potter clenched his jaw. "It'll be difficult."

Bellatrix massaged her neck. "I'll be back in three days."

"Three days, Mentor? That seems a bit long—I know you're an impatient bitch most of the time."

Bellatrix sneered, but her eyes flashed murderously. "I have important missions in Europe to attend—making sure the Dark Lord's minions are all up to his standards."

Severus thought this was only a glimpse of the truth. The sleeper Death Eater factions in every European country were stirring for months now. He himself had had missions to Germany and Norway in recent months, delivering the Dark Lord's message and recruiting wizards and witches.

"…Up to a standard which I know you're not of, Potter," she said, flicking up an eyebrow.

Severus saw that he boy glimpsed the grandfather clock near the fireplace.

"That's not my fault, Mentor—that's your failure."

* * *

Harry woke up. He didn't know how long he had slept for. Sleepy-eyed, drenched in sweat, and feeling as though he was recovering from something, he looked around and found that the bed where Ashley and Tony slept was made up, and the children nowhere to be seen.

"SHIT!" He rushed out of the room in a panic. He hoped they didn't run off. But hearing their voices downstairs in the kitchen made him relax. He jumped the last six stairs and was relieved to see them eating breakfast, while Aunt Petunia washed the dishes.

"Finally," Tony said, before he continued eating his toast.

Harry half-heartedly smiled and noticed that Aunt Petunia had stopped washing the dishes to stare at him. Her dog growled defensively near the doorway.

"Er… how long was I asleep?" Harry asked, taking a seat at the table. He helped himself to toast, bacon, eggs and sausages. He had more food to eat than he had ever had at the Dursleys.

"A few days," Aunt Petunia replied curtly. "You haven't been well. Since you're awake now, and better, I will be doing some shopping. So no funny business while I'm out."

An owl flew past the window.

"Petunia," Harry started. "Er, you haven't told anyone that we're here have you?" He saw several owls perched on next door's roof.

She shook her head, and plucked a pink envelope out of her apron. "Owls have been waiting outside since last night. Strange, whenever I want to talk to Mr Dumbledore owls appear." She pulled the letter out. "Should I send it? I've been worried that sending it might attract the Death people."

"It's a risk we need to take. I need to send one to Dumbledore too." He gulped on his toast, feeling his letter in his pocket. "What does yours say?"

"Just that you are here with two children, and you haven't killed me yet."

Harry nodded, giving her his approval to send it. Hopefully Dumbledore will help him now that he has his Mirror aunt on his side.

He noticed that Ashley was staring avidly at him with a little milk moustache on her top lip.

"Did you two have a good rest?" asked Harry. The children nodded. "Good. You're both looking better and Ashley, your hair is growing."

_"Really?"_ the little girl cried, touching her head. "Thanks."

He grinned and felt fresh and energised now having been properly rested and fed. He could now face this world and find a way home.

"When my aunt goes, we need to talk."

Petunia walked into the kitchen as Harry washed his plate. He turned around, seeing her in the exact same salmon pink coat she had in his world. She stuffed some post into her handbag, including the pink letter, and pursed her lips. "Rememb—"

"No funny business, gotcha." Harry nodded.

And with a little _hmph_ , she took one last look at the house before leaving. It was as though she was making a mental note where everything was, just in case they happened to steal or destroy something, or heaven forbid, the entire house exploded.

"Come along, Charles," Aunt Petunia called to her dog. She clasped the leash to his neck and off they went.

Harry closed the front door and sighed, looking around the quiet house. It was the first time he had a proper chance to look at his aunt's house. It looked almost the same, except for tiny differences, like the curtains, and different photographs of the family and obviously the addition of the dog.

There were plenty of photos of Dudley from a baby til now. In one photo he wore dirty red and white rugby gear and held up a trophy. There was another picture of Dudley wearing a suit and tie, his arms around a lovely blonde-haired girl. Harry presumed this was the girlfriend killed by Death Eaters.

Then he walked into the hall, spotting the Dursleys' telephone. He decided to dial a number. Heart pounding, he waited for someone to pick up the phone, but no one did, instead the answering machine spoke and he heard the familiar fast voice he missed.

"Hello, you've reached the Grangers' residence. We're not here at the moment, but please leave a message after the beep... ' _Beeeeeeeep_.'"

Harry was about to hang up, when Hermione's voice spoke again.

"If you can hear this, then you are genuinely worried about our welfare. We are safe in Australia, and I've enrolled at the Queen Victoria Institute of Magic. The Q.V.I.M. is one of the absolute best schools of magic in the Southern Hemisphere.

"We will return when the war is over, but for now, good luck and stay safe, _'Beeeeeeeep_.'"

Harry placed the phone back on the receiver and looked at the pink wallpapered wall straight ahead. At least in this world she was safe with her family. Safe as a Muggleborn could be. He wondered what Mirror Ron was like and if they'd ever been friends.

There was a small calendar near the phone and he did a double take: _31st of July._ It was his birthday. _I'm eighteen,_ he sighed. It was now just an ordinary date.

He moved on and opened up the cupboard under the stairs, which was filled with golf clubs and shoes, and two dangling spiders. He closed the door and found Ashley twiddling her thumbs, with Tony leaning against the wall next to her.

"What do you want to talk about? What's going to happen now?" Tony asked. "We can't stay here forever. Your aunt's already told us a million times."

Harry moved them into the living room. The children sat while he paced up and down, pausing every so often to look out the window. He saw two owls sitting on the lamp post. Just then, the tawny one flew off.

"I need to get back home, but first—"

"Your parents won't have you back." Tony rolled his eyes.

"I don't have any parents where I'm from. I want you to trust me, please. But to do that, I need to tell you my story," Harry took a deep breath and ignored the boy's sceptical look. "I haven't been entirely truthful from the start, but I will now if you're willing to hear me out."

He half expected the children to start screaming 'murderer, Death Eater, kidnapper,' but Tony cocked an eyebrow.

"Go on… tell us then. It's not like we've got anywhere else to go."

Always with the tone of resignation in his voice, Harry noticed.

"I'm Harry, yes, but a different Harry Potter. I'm from a Mirror Universe... I'm not a Death Eater, I'm not a murderer. I'm just, me." Harry held his breath, because no one spoke. "I was in a cave with my friends searching for an object—"

"Is Hogwarts opened in your world?" Ashley interrupted. Her face filled with hope.

"Yes. I think it still is. At least it was when I accidentally came here, but it's full of bad people now and we have our own war to deal with."

"Is you world like ours, I mean, with the war?"

"You believe him, Ash?" Tony snorted.

"I do!" She stood up. "I believe him. He hasn't killed us or hurt us yet, and he took us to a Muggle. So, yeah, I do."

"Look, I don't know what else I can do to make you believe in me Tony—"

"Take us to your parents right now. My dad saved your dad's life. It's about time James repaid him by looking after us."

"Well once my aunt sends the letter, Dumbledore will come get us. I need to get my belongings back."

"And then what will you do?" Tony asked.

"I need to find a way home. I've got my own troubles to deal with."

"What about our world?" Ashley squeaked. "The other Harry is still going to be bad, you know." She was grasping to whatever little hope she had gained when he had rescued her and Tony. It really pained Harry that he was not the hero she was looking for to save their world.

"I'm sorry Ashley, but I don't belong here."

* * *

It was almost dinnertime when Petunia entered the house, her dog barking beside her. She saw Harry's face and was relieved to see the house still intact. "Have you made dinner yet? Don't expect me to feed those kids again."

"I've fed them, they're fascinated by how your television works now." He smiled when he noticed his aunt cringe at the thought of them touching her property. "Don't worry they're sitting very still."

As his aunt ate in peace, Harry sat with the children in the living room, talking about the world.

"I'm glad at least the Ministry hasn't been taken over yet."

"It almost was. A few times," Tony replied. Though Harry knew the boy still didn't trust him. "But I think the Ministry is evil so I don't care if the Dark Lord takes it over. Then there's Dumbledore. He was badly injured when he fought the Dark Lord, there's not much he could do against anyone."

"Who do you think is winning?"

"I'm not sure. I'd say You Know Who is because, well, everyone is confused and scared with no one to turn to to help them. He's got spies and alliances in Europe now, and even in Europe people are killed, and their kids taken to be conditioned."

"When you two were at the Lestranges, did you ever overhear anything about Voldemort or about any of his plans?

Tony raised an eyebrow. "They're worried."

"About what?" Harry tensed up.

"I don't really know. Grindelwald is back, everyone's on edge, but they pretend they're not."

"He's back?" Harry blurted. "He escaped prison?"

The children nodded.

"OH! Death Eaters have started going missing," Ashley piped up. She was quite pleased she was able to help give him information. "Some have been found dead."

"Yeah, dead, with this weird symbol carved in their cheek."

Harry guessed he knew what that symbol was. He stood up and began pacing. Now there were two Dark Lords this world had to deal with. Was this wizard going to challenge Voldemort? Whatever the strategy was, his stomach lurched. Perhaps this would cause Voldemort to weaken.

"And I overheard Bella screaming that the Dark Lord is looking for something, and wouldn't tell her about it. She was really upset."

"What's he looking for?"

The boy shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know. From what I've heard, the Dark Lord might not be himself anymore. Some say he can act strange at times, showing uncontrolled magic, sometimes powerful, sometimes none at all—"

"Oh and wierd black smoke comes out of him when he's angry—"

"That's bullshit, Ash, and you know it," Tony snapped. "Potter, we've never met him, so we wouldn't be able to tell you if any of these rumours are true."

"Interesting," said Harry, getting excited at such news. "Can you tell me what happened between Harry and your dad—?"

_"Ahem…"_ Petunia stood in the doorway, arms crossed. "I would like to enjoy my living room in peace. My favourite soap is about to start."

Ashley frowned and whispered, "She's so mean."

Harry was a little jarred, but he was about to herd the children back up the stairs when the doorbell rang. He immediately told the children to hush up and to hide behind the couch. He pulled out his wand in case, as he heard his aunt open the front door cautiously. Maybe it was Dumbledore, he hoped.

"Hello? Hello… anyone there?" The door closed again with a snap. "Neighbourhood brats," Petunia hissed, locking the door.

Then the lights went out. In the dark, Aunt Petunia screamed. Mirror Harry suddenly appeared in front of his terrified aunt.

"Hello Aunt Petunia," he said.

"Th-there's two of y-you?" she spluttered.


	11. The Black Square

**The Black Square**

In shock, Petunia fell against the wall. "This is madness—I've gone mad, haven't I?"

"No, you haven't," said Harry as he focused on his Mirror. "How did you find us?"

"I've been looking for you for days and I thought I should check my aunt's place. I watched Privet Drive for a bit and hit the jackpot when I intercepted Petunia's letter." He pulled a crumbled pink letter from his pocket and threw it at Harry.

Harry quickly glanced down.

_Dear Mr Dumbledore,_

_You told me to contact you if my nephew was seen in my neighbourhood again. Harry is in my house with two children. They will not harm me. They are safe, but they can't stay for long._ _Please come._

_Petunia Dursley_

"Touching, isn't it? It's like she almost cares. And I intercepted yours too. _Dear Sir, I'm not a Death Eater. I need your help to go home... I can't say much more in this letter, blah, blah, blah._ "

Harry dropped Petunia's letter. "I haven't caused you any trouble, so why are you hunting me now?"

"You have."

"No I—"

But the Mirror pointed at the two children now hiding behind Harry's back. Ashley shook her head and whimpered.

He just needed to buy some time for them to escape. "Explain, then."

The Death Eater crossed his arms. "The Conditioned belong to the Lestranges. Everyone thinks I took them and are wondering where I'm keeping them, or worse, if I handed them over to Dumbledore. So I'm here to take them. Got a problem with that?"

"Yeah I do, as a matter of fact— _Stupefy_!"

The Mirror flicked the spell away like it was a bothersome insect. Suddenly the air seemed to thicken with echoes and a dancing black orb appeared between his hands.

"You really need to start using non-verbals, Harry," the Mirror admonished as the black orb grew.

Harry backed away from the swirling black power. The hair prickled on the back of his neck. This was Dark magic at its most powerful, and suddenly, there was a part of him that was fascinated by the Mage's power.

With an enormous push, the Mirror's black sphere plunged forward, turning into ribbons of smoke. Terrifying screams pitched from it, like it was alive and in agony, ready to eat Harry whole.

He fought back, producing a large golden shield to protect himself, Petunia and the children. The strange spell the Mirror hurled was so powerful that it caused the shield to vibrate violently. The photo frames shattered and the windows exploded. Harry put in a lot of energy to keep the shield intact. _Just a little longer,_ he thought, gripping the wand.

The Mirror's surprised reaction told him that he hadn't expected such a quick and powerful protection shield. The screaming smoke vanished.

Finally the hood fell off his face. His Mirror looked a lot healthier than the last time they'd met and well groomed. Underneath his cloak he wore black robes with snakes in silver embroidery, instead of the Azkaban issued clothes.

"That wasn't meant to happen, _again_. Your power can't grow that quickly."

"Maybe it can, maybe you're a touch arrogant," Harry said, remembering words Snape would say.

"I'm not arrogant."

"That's a big statement coming from a pathetic Death Eater like you," he spat back as he guided the children to stay with Petunia.

" _Pathetic,_ really? Harry, I just want to know why you're absorbing my skills, whereas I'm not absorbing yours?"

"Does it look like I know or care? I just want to go home."

"I know." The Mirror narrowed his eyes. "You're leeching off my power, because you've got none. I daresay you've probably acted like a parasite in your own world, hiding behind more powerful individuals while they die trying to protect you. You're nothing but a weak idiot."

"That's not true, and do you think I give a shit what you think?"

The Mirror laughed coldly.

"You weren't laughing the last time I saw you. You were screaming."

The Death Eater's laughter died in his throat. "What are you talking about?"

"Voldemort cursing you," Harry said, retreating slowly towards the couch.

"How do you know? _What_ do you know?" A furrow appeared on the Mirror's brow.

"I saw it while I was dreaming. I saw you staring into Voldemort's eyes. How is he by the way? He looked a bit grey, didn't he?"

"The Dark Lord is more powerful than he's ever been. You know, this connection, between us, is growing too strong, too soon."

"You think?" It unsettled him more than his connection with Voldemort.

Harry heard whimpering as Ashley began to cry, but what really enveloped his senses was the power that was in the room, that invisible sizzle of power in the air made his hair stand on end.

Sensing imminent danger, Harry Disapparated into the living room right before his Mirror threw a fiery blue curse at him.

Petunia and the children screamed.

"HARRY WATCH OUT!" Tony yelled.

He slashed his wand and rolled over the couch as another spell hurtled his way. It hit the couch and blue, fiercely hot flames suddenly erupted. Harry snuffed the fire out before it burnt the house down.

The Mirror kept throwing curses as Harry fought back or dodged spells. More ornaments exploded and bits of ceiling and wall crumbled over their heads. He covered his head and heard his Mirror laugh.

"You're fun to watch, Harry."

"Is that why you came here, just to be entertained?"

"Sort of, but I actually wanted a fight, a real fight, not a dance to dodge my spells. You've never had the proper training, have you?"

"I have." He was brilliant at Defence.

The Mirror shook his head. "No. You think you're good, but you're not. Your Dumbledore neglected to do a lot."

"He was protecting me—"

"Admit it. Dumbledore is a bastard, in my world… and in yours."

"That's not true!"

"But enough about your stupid existence, it's time I take the Conditioned."

"WE'RE NOT HERS," Tony yelled.

"HELP, HELP, SOMEONE!" Petunia cried.

"SHUT UP!" the Death Eater yelled. "You'll be mine for the keeping. As soon as you're with me you'll be under my control, to do whatever I command."

"No, no, no," whimpered the girl.

" _Get out of my house!"_ screamed Petunia, "SOMEONE PLEASE HELP!"

"Aunt Petunia, no one can hear you."

"We want to stay with the Good Harry," Tony spat.

As the dust settled, Harry saw the look of shock on Death Eater Harry's face. " _Good_?" he snorted, but Harry could tell he was unnerved by Tony's words.

"You heard him. They want to stay with me."

The Mirror sighed. "You've meddled in my world and in my affairs too _fucking_ much, too soon, stranger." His voice was harsh, yet intimate.

Harry's hands were clammy; he was not going to die now, not this way and not in this dimension when he had so much to do in his own world. "I wasn't dreaming of getting involved, but I found two tortured kids, and I wasn't going to leave them to be dealt with scum like you."

"I told you what would happen if you got in my way, didn't I?" the Death Eater hissed.

"Yeah, I remember, but you didn't scare me then and you're not scaring me now."

The Mirror grimaced and flicked his wrists.

A jet of orange fire that was shaped like a running man bolted toward Harry. Eyes wide, he flicked his wand and the flaming man was quickly absorbed into his phoenix and yew wand. Harry lashed back with a simply thought, _Reducto_.

The cabinet behind the Death Eater exploded, raining down shards. The boy yelled in pain, disappearing to the other end of the room, near the scared children and Petunia. With horror, Harry realised his protective shield around them was evaporating.

The Mirror blew a blast of freezing air and it shot at him, turning white, and forming large hail stones.

" _Incendio,_ " Harry roared. His magic enveloped the hurtling stones, melting them. Then he yelled, " _Stupefy_!"

The Death Eater swung his arms out and Harry's spell was suddenly knocked back in his direction. He ducked in time before it blew a hole in the wall.

"Stupefy? Oh, come on, Harry. You really need some good spells. That's shock—"

" _Sectumsempra!"_

The Death Eater yelled in pain; blood spattered the walls. He disappeared, until Harry saw a swirl of black in the corner of his eye.

"WATCH OUT!" the children yelled.

Suddenly he was thrown backwards by a blast that knocked all breath out of him.

"NO!" Tony, Ashley and Aunt Petunia screamed in unison.

"Run," Harry said to Petunia and the children through clenched teeth. He felt pain on his right side, and he couldn't get up.

The Death Eater crouched down close to him. He started to dust debris off Harry's shoulders and Accioed the fallen letters into his hand.

He heard whimpering and realised that the children and his aunt were all bound and gagged, ropes snaking tighter as they struggled in their bonds.

"Don't—"

"You've used that Dark curse before…"

"Piss off!" Harry gritted.

"Very well," the Mirror replied grimly, standing up. He picked up Harry's wand, and Petunia's letter, pocketing them. Then for good measure even took his glasses away. "You won't need these."

Suddenly Aunt Petunia screamed. _No,_ Harry thought, as he watched her crumble onto the floor. The Death Eater killed her.

"WHY?" Harry roared.

The Mirror smirked. "Because I can... Oh, by the way, Happy Birthday. I hope you like my present." He laughed.

Unable to move, he watched Tony and Ashley levitating towards his Mirror. Their shouts and cries muffled by the ropes. Then the Mirror took his bounty and vanished with a pop.

With his vision blurred, he now heard a series of pops and cracks and a different set of shouts.

"It's Potter! We've found him. That anonymous tip turned out to be true this time."

"Good job," a hoarse voice said. "Make sure the Muggle police are notified that Harry Potter has been caught."

Harry swore. His Mirror tipped the Aurors off.

"Is the Muggle alive?"

Harry tried to stand. But he didn't have a chance to fight back, because the very next second someone knocked him out cold.

* * *

The Grandfather clock in Severus's living room chimed several times. Bellatrix Lestrange's narrowed eyes and heavy breathing did not move him with any empathy. The witch held her wand tightly while Narcissa tried to calm her down.

He walked around the living room, fingers twitching towards his wand. The situation was proving more dangerous than he thought it was going to be.

"Bella, let it go," Narcissa purred. She looked quite fetching in forest green silk and black lace robes today.

"I will wait here until Potter turns up and hands them over."

He lifted the curtain to look out into misty Spinner's End, hoping to see the boy with the children. He saw nothing but swirling white cloud.

Bella sat on the couch, her head hung low, spilling her long black hair. "His time was up hours ago. He had his chance and now he'll suffer."

Curling his lip, Severus moved behind the couch. "Leave his family out of it. Do you really want to anger our master even more? The Dark Lord despises others meddling in one's business."

Bellatrix was outraged. "It didn't stop him from meddling in my own! He should've handed them over when he found them."

How could Severus argue with that? "And the boy was punished for it."

"Obviously it was not enough to get some sense into him."

He could quite easily curse Bellatrix's whiney head of from where he stood. He'd deal with Narcissa as an afterthought. "Leave the Potters out of it," he warned

Bella snorted. "Your love for the Mudblood bitch is hilarious."

Severus bowed low, close enough for his lips to brush against Bellatrix's hair, his breath on her ear. "And what exactly do you have planned for the Potters, may I ask?"

Bella chuckled. "A plan I've had since the beginning." She slowly pulled her head back, exposing her throat.

Staring at her pale skin, Severus could've done something dangerous right then and there. Perhaps she was testing him, tempting him to attack.

Her grey eyes found his, twinkling with malice. "You can join me if you wish. You can _fuck her_ before I kill her—I'll even let you have the first go before some of the Thirteen have her way with her."

He almost cracked his wand. He staggered back, placing his trembling hands behind his back. But he mustn't reveal his emotions and mustn't do anything stupid.

Narcissa followed his every move from her dark corner. Whenever her husband Lucius and her son Draco were on a mission, Narcissa would follow her sister like a lost puppy. Severus doubted that it was purely for protection, but more for the thrill. It was a dull and boring place in a large house like Malfoy Manor.

"It can wait until the time is right," Narcissa interjected. "The boy is not going to show up as we can see. Let's go, Bella, and think more about what we will do next. Some rest too will help. You haven't slept for days. You'll think better."

"If you weren't my favourite sister, I would've killed you by now."

"Just like Andromeda and her Mudblood husband? Severus hissed. "You have no boundaries."

"I have boundaries when it comes to blood and loyalty. It's something which you fail to have an ounce of."

He had had enough of them. "It's time for you to leave."

"You're right. I can't stand this filthy place any longer." Bella stood, smoothing her simple black gown, and covering her head with the hood of her cloak.

Finally, thought Severus, happily opening the front door for them. Narcissa disappeared first into the mist, but Bella hung back long enough to whisper him a warning.

"You've deserted me, Severus," she stated. "The boy should've have been killed a long time ago, yet you protect him now. You will pay."

"Goodbye Bellatrix." He slammed the door shut in her face.

Potter and the children did not return at all that evening. Instead, in the early hours of the morning Severus's Dark Mark burned fiercely.

He had been summoned.

* * *

Icy cold water hit his body like a wave. Harry woke with a start, gasping for breath as the cold penetrated his very bones. He shook violently, as he realised what had happened.

Now, he sat in a skeletal iron frame of a chair without backing or a seat. His hands and feet were manacled to the armrest and chair legs. His neck was held back by a chain, which jingled when tried to move. His clothes were freezing wet.

" _Hem, hem…"_

Another cauldron of cold water splashed him. Harry yelled out in shock.

"Welcome back home, Mr Potter." It was that sweet sickening voice he knew too well. Even without his glasses, he could still make out who she was.

" _You!"_ he spat at Dolores Umbridge.

Mirror Umbridge still wore that stupid pink bow on her hair. Her fuchsia high heels failed to give her height as they clicked on the stone floor.

Where was he?

"Azkaban missed you," Umbridge simpered. That answered his question. "You've been unconscious for a few hours." Behind her, Harry could make out a white clock. He squinted. It was three in the morning.

He looked past her, surveying his new surroundings. His breaths came out heavy, and white fog came out of his mouth in puffs. It was desperately cold. He wondered whether some Dementors had stayed behind.

Though the walls were a cruel stone grey, Umbridge still had the time to decorate it with her floral plates, covered with kittens.

Besides Umbridge and himself, Harry saw several Aurors. Blurry as they were, they still stood menacing. One of them made him jump, because he recognised the dark Auror as Kingsley Shacklebolt, bald, with a glint of a gold earring in one ear. Harry eyed him, silently imploring him for help. But who was he kidding? Shacklebolt wasn't his friend in this world.

Umbridge began circling him.

"Wh-Wh-what's going to happen?" he asked, shivering.

"We have some questions, which I hope you would kindly answer." She giggled as she twirled her stubby wand.

"I-i-if I don't?"

Umbridge smiled. It was that same sadistic smile she showed when she had made him write lines with his blood. "Don't play games Mr Potter, you know very well what will happen if you don't, as you've been taught several times before."

Harry doubted that she didn't want to play games. His muscles tensed, panic gripping him.

"W-why not use Veritiserum and g-get all the information you want?"

She stopped in front of him, her wand touching his cheek. He thrashed back against her touch. But there was nowhere he could hide.

"The true Death Eaters have protection against the potion. Your side has come up with ingenious ways to protect themselves from us."

"That is a myth—"

"Thank you for your input, Auror Shacklebolt," Umbridge tittered.

"Ms Undersecretary…"

Umbridge thought for a moment. " _Y_ es, Auror Shacklebolt?"

"At present, we have all the information we want about the boy. Besides, you know he doesn't reveal much."

"What exactly do we know? I want to know how they escaped."

Kingsley stepped forward. "No one knows what happened. And Potter had no power in his cell. He's done nothing but hide out in caves, and had the desire to finish off his relatives, failing."

Harry's heart fluttered. "She's not dead?"

"She's in a bizarre, enchanted sleep. Whatever you cursed her with, it didn't work."

His Mirror seemed to failing a lot of tasks lately. He wanted her to wake as soon as possible so she would be able to help him and tell everyone what had happened. He needed her to tell everyone that there were two Harrys.

"There was evidence of other people within the house," Umbridge stated brusquely. "He wasn't acting alone."

"I work alone!" Harry spat.

Kingsley backhanded him. "Don't speak unless you've been asked to!"

His ear was ringing, and he could feel his cheek beginning to swell.

" _Ahem, hem_ " Umbridge smiled. "Now how did you escape?"

"Ms Undersecretary—"

_"Shhh_! I want to hear it from the boy."

"I—" Harry didn't know how he was going to get out of this one. "Please listen to me, I'm not the Harry Potter you're looking for, you have to-"

It was then Harry understood why the chair had no backing. A curse hit his back, stiffening his muscles with cramps. He slumped back in agony when the curse lifted.

"Not the Harry Potter we're looking for?" she mocked. "He has gone mad!"

"—Ms Undersecretary, we can only guess what truly happened that night the prisoners escaped. There was an invisible explosion killing the Atoners and destroying the cell walls. These prisoners did not plan to—"

Even in fury, she blushed pink. "Shacklebolt, you are _really being_ disruptive. Potter, was it You-Know-Who, who let you out?"

"I—"

"I believe Voldemort wouldn't do this," Shacklebolt bravely answered for Harry. "He wouldn't just attack one section of the prison. He wants the entire prison taken."

Umbridge sighed. "Just hand him over to the Atoners, then. He will need to be punished for the escape as a lesson to the others."

The chair that he had been chained to vanished with a crack. Harry fell to the floor, then was roughly pulled up and dragged out of the room. Umbridge strode along in front, leading the way.

The corridor was dark and bone chillingly cold. It was lined with hundreds of cells, the rusted iron bars caging their prisoners. All the cells were filled with more than one prisoner. Some lay in their dark corners on sagging cots. Others watched Harry and some had extended their arms through the bars and began pleading their innocence. Umbridge ignored them. A couple of the Aurors cursed the prisoners back to their cell corners.

It was a long corridor that seemed to never end. As he was pulled through, his vision seemed to become a little clearer and sharper.

At the end of the passage, there was another thick iron door. Its sides were flanked by two Aurors. Harry looked up and saw a sign which read, _The Black Square_. Umbridge flicked her wand, and the locks came undone. There were heavy enchantments outside the door. The wards were strong and powerful. Harry could feel it prickling his skin.

Within, the room was huge, though just as grey and dark. Lights blazed in their sconces, but the heat didn't make him feel any better or give the Square any warmth. Nothing but a small wooden desk and chair stood in the middle of the room.

The floor before the desk was covered in old blood. On the floor was several iron loops drilled within the stone, only metres apart. Behind that, there was a small trapdoor made of iron bars. The entire square smelt of decay and rot and human waste.

Each side of the square contained thirteen cells, all bolted shut with a heavy door. There was a small window in each of them, and a small flap so food could be pushed through. Almost every one of them had a pair of eyes peeking through its window.

Umbridge sat down behind the little wooden desk. She held a lace handkerchief to her nose as she sprayed her little corner with floral perfume. She smoothed out the parchment and dipped her quill then wrote something down, before waving her hand at the Aurors as a signal.

Harry was pushed down to his knees; the short chain that linked his wrists was yanked toward the iron loop and charmed through it. Shacklebolt pulled out his wand, making him wince. But he didn't curse him. Instead Harry's clothes were shredded, leaving him totally naked in front of them.

Harry ignored the humiliation, thinking it was only going to get worse. He could not stand, but knelt in front of Umbridge. He could not fight, nor protect himself. He raised his chin, determined not to betray his emotions as he looked Umbridge in the eye. He could see her simpering smile clearly now and wanted to kill her.

Umbridge waved her wand, and Harry saw a bright blue light around the room, it was a barrier surrounding the walls, and it slowly fell, like a silk curtain.

"Can you all hear me?" she shrilled loudly, staring at all the closed cell doors.

"Let us go," one prisoner shouted. "I'm innocent! I have a small child—"

"SHUT UP BRENNAN! We all know you killed that Auror," another prisoner shouted from across the square.

"Please, please, I was only stating the truth about the Minister," an elderly prisoner whimpered.

"I'm sorry. I'll do whatever you say…" one cried. "Get me out of here."

The protest grew louder and Umbridge grew agitated.

"QUIET!" she screamed. "OR YOU WILL SUFFER THE CONSEQUENCES!"

At once there was silence.

"You are all in the Black Square because you are all the most dangerous enemies of the Ministry. Your pleas are useless. Your crimes and your teachings are pure evil. You will never leave your cell. Death will be your only freedom."

"If you wish to end your confinement, please ask to speak with me, and I will end it quickly and quietly."

Harry heard whimpering from one of the cells echoing around the Black Square. No one deserved this treatment, he thought.

_"Ahem."_ Umbridge readjusted her pink bow. "Harry Potter, as leader of the escape, you are hereby charged with prison escape, destruction of Ministry property and the maiming of a Muggle with the intent of murder. Your punishment will be the trapdoor until I see fit to release you. You will be flogged, and subjected to the whims of the Atoners. Repent for your crimes, Mr Potter, you have all the time in the world. Let this serve as a reminder to all of you of the consequences."

Harry couldn't breathe.

The Aurors backed against either side of the cells, and a passageway suddenly opened up behind the desk and a new group of men and women appeared. From what he had heard, these were the Atoners. These wizards were nothing more than pardoned or rehabilitated criminals working for Azkaban. One by one they circled Harry and Umbridge, wearing navy robes with a red enamelled 'A' pinned to their chest. They gleamed like blood in the firelight.

Instinctively he tested the chain, trying to break free. He wished the bloody flagstone would give way and release the hook. But nothing happened, not even a crack appeared.

"Atoners, welcome, welcome," Umbridge spoke, "Our escapee has returned. Willis where are you?"

"Aye, Ms Umbridge," a loud voice pronounced.

A tall Atoner with a blond, bushy beard stepped forward. His hands hooked onto his wide leather belt, to which various daggers and instruments were attached rather proudly. Harry thought he might have been the leader. His dark eyes were cold, and his grin shone with gold teeth.

She smiled. "You may take over. You must give him new scars, Willis, there are far too few to be seen. It seems to me that you have been too soft on these prisoners." Umbridge waved her hand around the cells.

Willis seemed a little confused as he glared at Harry's skin. "Ms Umbridge, I assure you, we've taken your word to the letter. I think he's been well healed since his escape."

"Well, it's time to give him some new ones."

"Aye." Willis puffed his chest up. "Brodes, it's your turn."

A portly bald man with a booming voice stepped out of the circle. He curtly nodded at Umbridge. He had a brown goatee knotted with a red band. There was a ghastly large scar that ran from his left eye to his chin. Brodes took out his wand and with a swish, a red lash cracked onto the floor, like a whip. It cast the Black Square with an eerie red glow. It was as though the depths of hell had opened up and Harry was right in its mouth.

"We've missed you, Potter." Brodes strolled forward, licking his lips.

The Atoner yanked his head back by fistful of hair. He saw the Atoner's eyes were excited, his pupils dilated and glassy. He squeezed his eyes shut, smelling the Atoner's putrid breath.

"Did you miss our little midnight calls to your cell?"

Harry's heart froze.


	12. Order at Work

**Order at Work**

"My Lord, you wanted to see me?" Severus bowed.

The Dark Lord sat on the high backed chair that had normally sat the headmaster or headmistress of Hogwarts in the Great Hall. He tapped his long white fingers on a goblet.

Hogwarts had changed. Gone were the candles that floated above them, and the stars that magically showed through the ceiling. Gone were the four tables, the warmth and anticipation of the students for the year ahead. Hogwarts as a great learning place was dead. It was dark, full of evil and despair and the joyful laughter from students had been replaced by the terrified screams of tortured prisoners.

The Dark Lord stood up, sniffing the air around him. The tall Death Eaters, who had lined the wall behind his throne wearing deep green masks, were his private guard. The special guard of ten were the carefully chosen children of pureblooded Death Eaters, who had been given to the Dark Lord as youngsters to be trained for this special service.

"Come... walk with me," the Dark Lord said, goblet in hand.

Severus turned away from those hypnotic green masks and felt as though he was about to be questioned. "Yes, my Lord."

They walked for a while in silence passing more sullen prisoners and whispering Death Eaters.

The Dark Lord red eyes focused on Severus. "Once the war is over I will open up the school. This has always been my home."

"Of course, my Lord, and with your blessing, I would like to continue teaching."

"It will be a pleasure watching you developing young minds in the Dark Arts, and cementing our pureblood ideals in their hearts and minds."

Severus bowed. However, he had a niggling suspicion that his master didn't summon him to discuss the Hogwarts curriculum.

They moved out of the hall and into an unused classroom. The room reeked of mould, and spider webs glowed in the misty moonlight streaming through broken windows. The house elves would've kept the castle clean, but since most of the Hogwarts elves had been slaughtered, the weakened prisoners were left to do the cleaning.

"For the last few months I have been monitoring Grindelwald's advances on my territory."

"We've noticed. The Seniors are worried, but, Grindelwald is weak against your power."

"Yet, he has been plucking my followers to swell his own. The wizard has always been a thief. I have punished those consorting with him, hunted those who have betrayed me, but he rebounds." The Dark Lord slowly swept dust off a desk with a finger. "Get the prisoners to clean here," he snapped at one of the green masked guards.

"Death Eaters who oppose him are killed and marked with Deathly Hallows on their cheek," Severus stated.

"They have truly been my faithful and I have promised their families that I will crush Grindelwald." He took a drink from the goblet, never taking his unblinking gaze off Severus.

It made him wonder if Voldemort knew Grindelwald had visited his home. Severus took a deep breath, willing the barrier shielding his mind to strengthen against any attack.

"Have you been speaking with this impostor?"

_Ah, yes the suspicion._ "No—"

"Bellatrix has evidence that you have."

He knew Bellatrix wanted to destroy him now. "May I see this evidence?"

The Dark Lord pulled a calling card from his dark robes and threw it at Severus's feet. He picked it up, staring at it. It was gold and in the middle was a swirling ornate black 'G.' G for Grindelwald.

"Gellert leaves this card wherever he visits. Bellatrix found this in your living room."

_That's impossible,_ he thought. He swept the house clean of any trace of Grindelwald as soon as he had left. Severus would've found such a card straight away. Dumbledore would've told the wizard to be careful.

"Bella is upset about Potter stealing her Conditioned. She's also angry that I'm protecting him. I fear this is petty revenge on her part."

"I fear it too. However, your past is against you, Severus. A leopard does not change its spots. I have never forgotten that you loved Lily Potter, a Mudblood, and wanted her protected."

"I have no love for her that way, anymore." It was partly true.

"But…" The Dark Lord moved into the light of a solitary candle. "You would still die to protect her, would you not?"

"Yes." It was no use denying it. Practically everyone knew this, since Bellatrix made it her mission to ridicule him.

Severus had grown to respect Lily. He didn't want her for himself to her detriment and that of her family's. Not anymore, at least. He still loved her dearly but had moved beyond that destructive passion for her and let her go. Now he focused on protecting her and her family, and making sure she was happy.

"You would especially protect… her children…?"

"I don't want any child dead."

The Dark Lord smirked and moved away. "You protect Harry like he is your own son—though the look of disgust I see on your face tells me otherwise."

Severus scowled. "Potter is your loyal servant. Of course I must protect him. My Lord, I feel as though you want to tell me something—?"

The Dark Lord chuckled, and he would've revealed all, if it wasn't for the Death Eater bursting into the room.

"Master!" a cloaked and masked Death Eater gasped. He bowed at the Dark Lord's feet and began whispering.

"The boy has been caught and is once again in Azkaban," the Dark Lord spoke for Severus to hear. "And the children?"

"No word on them. It looks like they've disappeared."

The Dark Lord was furious. He flung the goblet at the Death Eater, knocking him to the ground, and soaking his robes in a liquid that looked like molten silver. Severus recognised it straight away as unicorn blood. With a swipe of his wand, the mess was cleaned up.

How long has he been drinking blood so pure and innocent from a unicorn? He would need to inform Dumbledore about this straight away.

"Look for the children," he hissed. "Now, get out of my sight."

The Death Eater ran for his life.

"Fool!" the Dark lord spat.

This was a devastating blow. How could Potter be so stupid as to get caught twice? Bravely, Severus asked, feigning ignorance. "Perhaps you can break him out of Azkaban, had it been you that helped the first time?"

""It was Grindelwald who did it."

Severus pinched his chin, thinking. He watched his master pace the room in anger.

"The boy is too much of an asset to fall into Grindelwald's hands."

"I will prove my loyalty by helping him escape," he said. Not that he really wanted to. He liked the boy far away from him.

"No… I want him kept there. It is better for his power to be suppressed. When I take over Azkaban, he will be freed."

Even though Potter had been high up in command, Severus always wondered if his master feared the boy. The prophecy which he had heard that fateful day in Hogsmeade still obsessed his master.

The Dark Lord twitched his long fingers. "You will prove your loyalty by bringing me Jessica Potter."

"My Lord?" How many surprising developments could he handle in less than five minutes?

"Keep the mother, kill the rest, I do not care for them. Although knowing you, you'll try to avoid it."

The words rung in Severus's ears and for a moment, he forgot how to breathe. "It is as you wish, my Lord. It… It will be an honour." He bowed stiffly. "May I ask why you want the girl, is she to be conditioned?"

The Dark Lord's eyes were as red as fresh blood, and Severus could not help but think there was an amusing secret his master had failed to tell him. "The boy has failed me, perhaps his sister won't."

Severus hesitated to move for awhile. It was the first time in a long time that he didn't not know what to do.

* * *

Christopher and Michael had been eavesdropping. They had been ordered up to their bedroom, but it didn't stop them wanting to know what was happening in the emergency Order meeting. Their mother was angry, hysterical, all because nobody wanted to help her sister.

"Shit, Mum's really having kittens tonight."

"Shh, shut it, Chris."

Michael heard Remus interjecting, and then a slur of eloquent curse words flew out of his mother's mouth.

"Why is she so angry?" Jessica yelped, rocking back and forth against the wall. "She's scaring me. Is Mummy OK?"

"She's fine, Newt," Christopher replied, trying to listen in.

Michael glanced at his sister swaying back and forth. Jessica had always hated her nickname, Newt. They rarely used it now because it always reminded them of life before Charlie's murder. Now, Jessica never took any notice of the nickname.

Sometimes, Jessica would forget things. They had told her about the attack as soon the news came through, yet now, she had clearly forgotten what Harry had done and why their mother was angry.

"Jess, our aunt is in hospital because Harry attacked her two days ago. She's in bad shape and they don't know if she'll ever wake up," Michael answered slowly, making sure she understood.

Her lip trembled. Tears sparkled in her foggy eyes. "My poor aunty…"

They raised their eyebrows. While Petunia was their aunt, they had only seen her once. They mostly knew of the Dursleys through their parents' stories and they weren't the nicest Muggles.

"Jess, you've never met her, and she's not nice."

"Why would Harry do that?" she sniffled.

"Because he's evil, that's why."

"And now he's back in Azkaban," she said slowly. "If only he'd given it… none of this would have happened."

Michael and Christopher exchanged a mutual expression of worry.

"What are you talking about? What would Harry give and to whom?" Michael asked, wrapping his arms around his little sister, pulling her close.

Jessica sniffled, wiped her runny nose with the sleeve of her dress and rested her head on her brother's chest in silence.

"Sometimes I feel as though the Jessica I knew is trapped inside of you," Michael whispered. He had gotten used to her enigmatic words.

"I wish… I wish everyone was happy. I want Charlie alive, everyone good again, and the black that smells of death gone forever."

Confused, Michael let her doze off.

* * *

Lily was so angry that she couldn't keep still. She paced up and down the house, pulling on a cardigan, then taking it off when she realised it was hot. Finally unable to take any more of the fighting and the waiting, she stomped to the front door. "I want to see my sister, James. I want her out of there. Why won't you all just listen to me?"

"You're out of your mind," James yelled, grabbing her arm, fingers like a vice around her wrist.

She fumed. "Get your hand off me!" She did not know what was happening to her sister. All she had heard were rumours from St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies, where Petunia lay alone and friendless.

"No!"

"If she wakes up, she'll be scared and lost."

Her hand gripped the door knob, but James gripped her arm even tighter. The fear in his eyes twinged her with guilt.

"You set foot into town, into St Mungo's, Voldemort will know. Think rationally."

She knew he was right, but she didn't want to give him the satisfaction.

"Lily," Dumbledore spoke from a dark corner in the hall. There was a leather tome Portkey in his arms. His long fingers caressed the cover gently. "We will get her out of there as soon as it is safe. I'll speak to our members at the hospital for a suitable time."

"You told me this yesterday. When will that suitable time be?"

"Lily, please," Remus said with his hands outstretched.

She turned away from his pleas and with a great sigh let go of the doorknob. Her husband's grip slackened. Lily yanked her arm away from him, storming into the kitchen, everyone following at her heels. There she unlocked the highest cabinet in the kitchen with a flick of her wand so roughly that the lock shot across the room, bounced off the wall, leaving behind a dent. Little Dedalus Diggle had to duck to miss it hitting his head. She charmed down a bottle of Firewhiskey and downed a glass straightaway.

"You still think Harry is our perfect, innocent little boy, Lils—"

"SHUT UP, JAMES!" she screamed, hurling the glass at his head. He swung in time as it shattered behind him.

"QUIET!" Dumbledore sat down. It was fairly rare that the old wizard would raise his voice. This was one of those rare events and everyone obeyed. "Please sit, everyone. We have plenty of work to do."

Lily felt like a small schoolgirl again being reprimanded by a teacher.

Dumbledore laid the book out in front of him. Then he put his hands together, resting them beneath his long nose. There was an air of weariness and sadness that emanated from him. Lily thought there was something not right with the old headmaster. She saw the book and wondered why he had brought it out of their secure cabinet, but her mind was still focused on her sister for her to ask what the headmaster wanted of it.

Lily leaned back against the kitchen bench, surveying the quiet Order members across the room. Dedalus moped up the sweat from his brow. Emmeline Vance played with a lock of her jet black hair. Bill, Fred, George and Ron Weasley were whispering to each other near the pantry.

"Everyone is at risk twenty-four bloody hours of the day! I refuse to sit back and hide while our world collapses around us. I'm going to see my sister and I'll bring her back here. She needs people she knows surrounding her—"

James snorted. "You mean freaks she knows and hates."

She ignored her husband and was determined to make them come to their senses. Even though they had their differences, Petunia Dursley was still her family. And Lily loved her. Will always love her, no matter how much Petunia despised her world.

How stupid she had been thinking that her eldest child was still her sweet little boy. How delusional had she been? Lily wanted to beat herself for ever thinking it. Harry had always had a mission and that was to finish his family off.

All they knew from the attack on Petunia was that Harry had slept in the house for a long while. And that it had appeared he did not stay alone. The rumours that Harry had stolen Bellatrix's prisoners seemed true. Kingsley also believed that Petunia may have been Imperioused to allow Harry to stay within her own home. Then, she had found out that the Auror department had been made aware of his whereabouts by an anonymous tip.

"We will get Petunia out. Give it another couple of days. Aurors and Death Eaters alike are expecting you to see her," Remus said. He was haggard and tired and his voice was hoarse. Lily realised the full moon was fast approaching.

She crossed her arms, huffing. Even though St Mungo's was a brilliant magical hospital, mysterious deaths and disappearances from within the safety of its walls occurred frequently. These were perpetrated by Death Eaters and the Ministry. People opted to be treated for their injuries in their own homes, though sometimes, without proper healing methods.

"We will plan now how to rescue her," Dumbledore said.

It was then she noticed that there were a few members missing from the meeting. For one, Sirius, Charlie Weasley and Hagrid were tracking down Death Eaters who were killing unicorns. For a few years, unicorns would be killed once a year after the spring, and their blood drained. Unicorn blood fetched the most ridiculous prices in the black market since the war began. They suspected that Voldemort would use the funds to feed, house and reward his followers.

Arthur was at the Ministry trying to gather information on infiltrated Death Eaters spying in the departments. Meanwhile, Arthur's son Percy, working for Umbridge, was spying on her and the Minister. They knew that Umbridge was manipulating the Minister for her own agenda, passing insane laws to their world's detriment, including throwing obstacles at the Order.

For a decade, the Order had been viewed with suspicion and promoted as an evil vigilante group. However, Scrimgeour tolerated the group as long as Dumbledore provided information about Voldemort. But then when Hogwarts closed, Dumbledore cut his links with the Ministry and it became a crime to be associated with Order of the Phoenix. To be convicted as an Order member would mean a life sentence in the Black Square. Except, it was hard to catch Dumbledore as many in the Ministry still respected and feared him. Something which Umbridge was furious about. Some of those who had helped make the laws, secretly placed small magical loopholes, allowing the Order to continue their work unheeded.

Finally sitting down at the table, Lily looked around once more: Professor McGonagall, Professors Flitwick and Sprout and many others were trying to track down the movements of Grindelwald. Some of the Auror members were protecting Muggle towns or homes which Death Eaters would likely attack soon, while others protected vulnerable Muggleborns and their families from slaughter and abduction. Lastly, Kingsley Shacklebolt would be overseeing the imprisonment of her son.

With all these missions, she was surprised no one has died yet.

She ignored the buzzing conversations, their voices getting louder and more animated and they pointed to a map, agreeing and disagreeing. Her gaze landed on that book Dumbledore held onto again.

"…We'll use the Impenetrable Mist the Weasley twins have invented," Dumbledore said.

"Our finest moment," Fred and George said together.

James shook his head, pointing to the map. "That's all good, but I still have to disagree with the route we've chosen. That St Mungo's secret passage is just too dangerous, let's use the one that goes beneath this Muggle St—"

"Why do you have that book, Albus?" Lily spoke over James.

The red-haired Weasleys perked up once more. They didn't expect she'd be questioning him, on something other than rescuing Petunia.

Dumbledore opened his eyes. He had clearly been focused on other things as well; Lily doubted that he was even thinking about any plan involving her sister.

"I wanted to read it." Dumbledore adjusted his half moon spectacles over his nose, held the book up and read. _"Oe Fo Irbil."_

"Funny you say that, because none of us have been able to open it since Harry arrived here. Why?"

"I've noticed, but yes, it is a surprising development. I think, perhaps, Harry has put something within the book for safekeeping," he answered, resting the book on his lap.

"Like what?"

"I'm not sure," Dumbledore said. "But I will let you know once I have, and I'm sure this book would be a curious read over a nice cup of tea and gingersnaps."

"Gone off the sherbet lemons, have you, sir?" Fred asked with a cheeky grin.

Dumbledore's moustache quivered in amusement, and he broke eye contact with her. "Thanks to your sweets, boys, it was a nightmare trying to find robes that suited my lovely lemon-coloured complexion and beard."

Lily suddenly had the urge to sneeze and instantly thought about her son being evil. She was confused for a moment before Petunia's dire predicament swam into her mind again.

There was a tapping on the kitchen window, and they saw an owl. James let it through and it landed gently on the table in front of them all and the owl stuck out its leg at Dumbledore.

"Ahh, Octavia Miles will be in charge of St Mungo's tonight. Perfect!"

* * *

It was in the wee hours of the morning they had decided to invade St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies. Everyone would be asleep, and the staff at its minimal. Lily, James, Emmeline, Bill and Dumbledore opened the front door, stepping out into the night. They had each Polyjuiced themselves into lesser known Healers working within the hospital and wore their lime green uniforms.

Lily turned around in time to see Remus walk into the hallway. "Look after my children. If—"

"I'll see you before dawn," he replied confidently. The Weasley boys joined him by his side, yawning away their sleep.

"I still think you should stay, Lily," James growled. He was Polyjuiced into a blonde-haired Healer. She glared daggers at him.

"Everyone, the Portkey will be activated in a minute. We need to hurry up," Emmeline urged.

They briskly walked past the front gate and up the deserted cobbled street. Lily turned around to see her house disappear under the Fidelius Charm.

Emmeline, now a pale freckly, brown-haired healer, began to look for an inconspicuous object on the ground. She found a battered can of baked beans and held it up to the street lamp. It began to glow blue. "Quickly now."

They touched the can with a finger. Their shoulders all touched in the tiny space. James embraced her with his free arm. Lily couldn't help but notice that the warmth he shared. It felt nice.

She watched as the intense blue light of the Portkey reflected off his blue eyes and blonde hair. The Healer James had Polyjuiced into was handsome. But Lily thought her husband, a dark-haired, tall and lithe man, was even more so. She blushed, and her husband noticed.

James grinned at her. "I'm so good-looking I send the ladies into hysterical fits of passion."

"You are literally so full of—"

Then suddenly, a hook around their middles pulled them forward together. Lily took in a deep breath. They whirled through the darkness, all tightly bound.

But as fast as it had begun, they landed softly and whole on a dark Muggle street. Without time to adjust their robes, and their messy hair, the group broke into two.

James with Lily hid behind a dumpster. Bald-headed Bill and Emmeline were with a much younger and rounder looking Dumbledore, with a cropped grey beard and hair.

Now they waited. A balmy breeze picked up around them, swirling bits of plastic and leaves around their feet. The smell coming from the dumpster was putrid. Somewhere in an alleyway, cats were fighting.

Then, by the gutter, there was a whistle, like a sparrow. Dumbledore waved his wand, charming a white glowing bird to fly out. It was a beautiful Patronus of a phoenix. It flew past the gutter, before dissipating.

The gutter opened up, as though the earth was being swallowed within. A Healer stepped out. Her eyes were puffy from lack of sleep. Her face was sweaty and dirty. Her curly grey-brown hair tied up in a ponytail.

"What are you waiting for, get in," she whispered hurryingly. She herded them down, pushing them into the gutter.

Dumbledore stayed behind. "Send me a message when you're ready."

"Yes, yes. Just get in now." Octavia looked about, before following them in and closing up the hole behind them.

The passageway was damp and dark. James ignited his wand and Bill examined the passageway.

"It's much roomier than I thought," Emmeline said.

"Yes, well, it's rather long and steep at times," Octavia huffed.

Healer Octavia Miles was a member of the Order of the Phoenix for the last four years. Her husband, a Muggleborn, had been murdered while her then sixteen year old daughter, Emily, had been abducted and conditioned. No one knew if the girl was still alive.

Her determination to find her child had helped form a friendship with Lily. They made it their mission, with a few of the other mothers, to raid Death Eater hideaways and rescue the people they've taken. So far they've rescued several muggleborn children and imprisoned many Death Eaters at the Order's secretly hidden prison.

"I've been keeping a watch on Petunia Dursley," Octavia started. "Two Aurors—both Ministry owned—are stationed outside the door and another sits in the room with her all day." She turned around, making them all stop in their track. "Just hours ago, they arrested a Death Eater impersonating the tea trolley aid."

Lily gasped.

"Don't worry… they got them before they entered the room."

"How is she?" James asked.

"She's in a deep sleep. We're not sure what sort of curse was used. Her eyes are always open, so we've taped them shut."

"Harry hasn't told anyone what he used on her," Bill said.

"It wasn't a Dementor Kiss, was it?" Emmeline spoke words Lily didn't dare ask. But it couldn't have been a Dementor. None were sighted at Privet Drive.

"No, it isn't, it is something else." Octavia squeezed Lily's hand. "She'll be all right, love."

When they reached St Mungo's, they entered through a cupboard. They were in a potions storage facility. Shelves upon shelves of different coloured potions lined them, each bottle labelled with what it was. The room was huge and temperature controlled. They walked through another room filled with cauldrons. It was very hot in there as some of the cauldrons were on top of fires, being magically stirred with a ladle. A tiny little witch with a monocle stood behind one, ticking her clipboard, oblivious to the Healers walking past her.

They were led them up a staircase and several more until they reached the main foyer. The walls were a shade of green and lined by portraits of famous powerful witches who were fast asleep in their frames, though many portraits had been taken down, making the walls look bare in some places. The portraits removed were ones the Ministry knew had ties with Dumbledore.

James nudged Lily forward. They moved ahead alert. The lights in the foyer were dimmed around and not a soul stirred.

Octavia took them to the floor Petunia was and straight into an empty room. Lily looked at the crisp linen sheets covering the bed. In a few moments she will face the wreck of her sister.

The Healer turned to them. "I will enter first, check her over and find that there is something wrong. I will let the Auror know that I'm going to bring you lot in."

"And I'll transform a pillow into Petunia's likeness. And we'll take her onto an awaiting broomstick," James added

It was all going to plan, Lily thought, but that was until the Auror inside the single bedded room refused to leave.

"Auror Emery, we need to conduct an examination without you hindering us!" Octavia pounced.

"I have my orders, Miss," The Auror spat, his wand out and ready.

Lily moved behind him and whispered, "Petrificus Totalis."

The poor Auror straightened out and fell. But before he could fall onto the floor with a thump and alert the others outside, James caught him and placed him standing up in a nearby closet.

Lily rushed to her sister's bedside as Emmeline placed a silencing charm on the door.

She took in a deep breath, seeing her sister. The linen sheets were pulled up beneath her chin. Her blonde hair was in disarray, while her dark eyes glassy and open. Lily waved her hand in front of her face. There was no response.

"Oh... Tuney…" she whispered sadly. She charmed her sister into the air as Emmeline sent Dumbledore a Patronus of a dormouse skittering out of the window.

Lily's heart pounded as she moved her sister towards the window. It was then the door opened. James swore and Bill moved past them, positioning himself by James's side. They turned quickly to see what was happening.

Octavia Miles stood with her wand pointed in their faces. The two Aurors stood by her sides. One was tall, his eyes small and watery. The other was well built, but was missing an eye. He looked stronger than ten trolls put together. Octavia's wand hand shook slightly and tears covered her cheeks.

"What's going on?" Lily asked calmly. Her heart sank to the floor.

Emmeline quickly straddled the broomstick, her mouth wide open in shock.

"Lily, get your sister out." James walked forward in his bid to protect the witches as they struggled to place Petunia onto the broomstick. "Death Eaters!"

"I'm so sorry," Octavia whispered. "This is my chance to get my daughter back. They promised me I'd get Emily back."

"No, no, you can't!" Lily said with urgency, letting Emmeline go, who was gripping on both broom and Lily's sister for dear life. Petunia Dursley slumped over like a heavy sack. "Octavia, you can't do this!"

"Lily, don't make it worse," Octavia shook her head. "Please forgive me. They want you and James. The Muggle can go."

Emmeline zoomed off.

"CONFODERE!" James roared. The enemies ducked, missing his spell as daggers were hurled at them.

As Lily and the others hid behind an empty bed, the tall Death Eater pulled back towards the door and slashed his wand at his partner. The well built Death Eater, who was ready to throw a curse at them all, fell, screaming in pain. He shuddered and died.

Octavia whirled around in confusion. Her wand cluttered to the floor.

Was this Death Eater friend or foe?

"Get out. Get out now. I will deal with this mess," the Death Eater yelled at them all.

"Who are you?" Lily asked. She stood still, watching the Death Eater push a crying Octavia to the window and onto a broomstick. His arm touched Lily's. He looked at her.

"Lily, MOVE!" James yelled, yanking her arm, urging her out of the window.

Lily stood frozen. The way he looked at her was like someone she knew. "Severus?" she whispered.

The Death Eater gazed out the window, grabbing a broomstick for her. "You need to go, now."

* * *

Harry woke to the trickle of hot liquid stinging the wounds on his back. He soon realised that an Atoner was relieving himself on him, as he knelt down in the cramped, tiny cell which he had been imprisoned in.

He wanted to see that ugly face tormenting him, but he had no room to move. He heard the man zip his fly shut and laughed his way around the Black Square as he patrolled it again. Every so often, the sharp wack of his wand on the iron cell doors would reverberate across the room. Judging by the Atoner's chortle, Harry thought it was Willis.

By now he knew who the commanding Atoners were.

There was Simon Willis who was Captain of the enforcement group. He gave out the commands and favoured his torture instruments more so than his wand.

Second, was Gregory Brodes who always looked at Harry with a hungry look that sent chills through him. Brodes was skilled with curses, but Harry was more worried about what the Atoner would do once he was tucked away in the darkness of his cell.

There were others: Tom Lurchman, an Atoner who would pull him out of the 'trapdoor' cell every night and the one to drop him in it again. Agnes Cotter, was a tricky one. One moment she'd hand him a glass of water, then the next she'd slap it out of his hands demanding answers. There was Caster and Meryn in the background who would question him, and a few others who Harry did not know their names yet, but always they watched, and always they patrolled the Black Square, keeping the prisoners in check.

Harry clenched his jaw as he shifted in his little space. He was in pain all over and suspected he had a few broken bones. He trembled from cold and exhaustion. He couldn't even feel his knees anymore. He huddled himself against the eerie whistling breeze that entered the Black Square during storms that bashed against Azkaban.

The pain had begun to take its toll on him. For the first few nights Harry had refused to scream and to give in. His determination was stronger when Umbridge had watched. Their questions were drowned by the white pain that coursed through him. But he refused to say anything.

Soon after, the pain had began to eat away at him like a caterpillar nibbling at a leaf, he didn't realise he was yelling. He didn't realise there were tears flooding his eyes. Harry didn't realise he was giving them the lies they wished to hear until it was too late.

He rested his head against the wall of his little cell feeling very sorry for himself, indeed.

Harry felt moulded into the position forever, though every night they'd yank him out and he was subjected once again to their interrogation. Six nights he had endured. They made sure he was awake for every one of them.

He was used to his little cell now, but he wasn't used to the Atoners. He wondered how on earth his Mirror had endured imprisonment in the Black Square for almost a year.

Harry heard footsteps, but those clanking boots did not belong to Willis. His heart pounded, almost trying to escape his chest. Was it night seven already? Truly it couldn't be.

"Think you're some hotshot Auror, do you?" Willis asked.

He held his breath, ignoring the wave of nausea and the dizziness.

"Get out of my way!" Shacklebolt threatened. "We have an order to release Potter."

"Do you now? Let's see this order, then."

There was a ruffle of papers and then Willis grunting. "Why would Ms Umbridge sign this? She isn't satisfied with the boy's answers yet. We know he's lying about the escape."

"You are welcome to march straight to the Ministry and ask her yourself. She enjoys your tongue whilst you kneel under her desk—"

"Why you—"

"Enough of this! You'll have other ways to amuse yourselves out of boredom in here. Open it." Harry recognised Tonks.

"Lurch, get the boy out," Willis spat.

Lurchman pulled the iron barred latch open above Harry's head. Next, hands yanked his hair. He muffled his yell, his entire body protesting the movement.

"Move. MOVE!" Lurchman shouted. He let go of Harry's hair, and moved his hands beneath his armpits, pulling him out.

Harry fell onto the cobbled floor. His entire body was in agony. He curled into a ball, opening his eyes, slowly looking up at the booming black figure of Kingsley Shacklebolt. The purple haired Tonks was staring at him with disdain. Shacklebolt gazed quickly over his body and paled.

"Pl—" Harry licked his parched lips. "Please help me."

"I don't help criminals." Shacklebolt grimaced and kicked him. Harry yelled in pain.

"Move him," Willis grunted.

It was all a blur. He saw the faces above him. The flickering candles above covering the figures with a golden glow. Lurchman dragged him and the Aurors and Atoners followed.

"We've kept your old cell, Potter," Lurchman grunted, as he pulled him. "It was a bit damaged by your escape, but we've fixed it up good."

Harry didn't reply, he was more concerned by the pain. The course stone beneath him grazed him and the candles flickered past, overhead. He was moved into a dark cell and Lurchman let go, cleaned his hands on his blue robe and moved aside. Both Aurors and Willis stood around him.

Harry was so tired, and cold, he couldn't lift his head. He actually didn't care what was going to happen next.

"Have Cotter treat his wounds," Shacklebolt said.

Then they all retreated, shutting the door, leaving Harry in darkness. His senses were swirling and the pain and cold unbearable. He had nothing else to do but let out a cry of despair, fear, and relief. He fell asleep on the cold hard floor.

* * *

"NOOOOOO!" Harry yelled waking from a cold dream filled with curses and whips, and Pettigrew's children screaming for help.

He bolted upright, hands clambering the damp rocky wall behind him. Ashley and Tony! It was the first time he had thought of them in here, and he felt suddenly ashamed he had forgotten about them.

"Potter."

Harry realised he was not alone in the cell. His eyes adjusted to the dim light which the one floating candle emitted. Agnes Cotter was in the cell with him, holding a wet sponge in her hand.

In shock, he hurled himself on top of her, knocking them both to the floor. He wanted to strangle her, to escape.

"Stupid boy!" Kingsley Shacklebolt roared. A flash of red light filled the room and Harry was stunned, his hands still wrapped around the witch's neck.

Cotter gasped and pushed him away from her. "Get him back to bed, please," she wheezed, massaging her neck.

Kingsley pulled Harry back into his pathetic bed.

"What are you doing to me?" he rasped, looking down at his mangled body.

"I'm cleaning you up," Cotter replied. "If you stay still and don't attack me, I'll be finished soon." She and Kingsley exchanged a veiled look.

"Leave me alone," Harry whispered. Goosebumps prickled over him like a tsunami and he started to shiver again. Cotter helped Harry onto his side. His back was on fire from all the lacerations. She slid a blanket over his shoulders after she finished dressing his wounds.

"You've got a fever. The last thing you want is to be left alone."

Harry grunted as she moved away and Kingsley came closer, crouching beside him.

"Miss Cotter, could you give us some privacy?"

The Atoner obeyed and left the cell. Before sitting down, Kingsley waved his wand, muttering, "Muffliato."

Harry waited for the Auror to speak.

"At the Dursleys, there were two children with you, correct?"

Last thing Harry wanted was for Ashley and Tony to end up in Azkaban. "That's not true. I was alone." He waited for a wave of pain, but nothing came.

"Don't lie, Harry. You hid the children there after Confunding your aunt."

"I never Confund—"

Kingsley put a hand on his shoulder. Harry recoiled, expecting pain, but the Auror was surprisingly gentle after he had kicked him.

"There was a remnant of that charm on her."

His Mirror really planned this deception quite well.

"Do something decent for a change, and tell us where they are."

"I don't know—"

"We know you had the Pettigrew children, because our source told us. Someone let them escape Malfoy Manor."

"Who helped them?" Harry wondered out loud. He should have asked then, but with so many questions and seeing the sad looks in their eyes, he tried to avoid asking the children any unnecessary questions. They were freed. They were out of that hell, so why remind them?

"We don't know that part. All we know is that they were staying with the Malfoys, after Bellatrix's fortress was destroyed in the Order attack. They escaped and you quite conveniently picked them up in a cave."

Harry vigorously shook his head. "I don't have a clue who these kids are, sorry."

"Harry these are children. They need to be protected."

"They'll end up in here."

"They won't and you know it. I'm not going to hurt you. I just want you to tell me."

Then Harry understood. Ashley and Tony would be taken to Dumbledore. Kingsley was a member of the Order of the Phoenix.

"Umbridge didn't sign an order to get me out of that cell, did she?"

Kingsley grinned. "Not willingly. I may have used a charm."

"He took Pettigrew's children, and I don't know what sort of curse he placed on Aunt Petunia."

Kingsley straightened up. "Voldemort?"

"No, Mirror Harry did. He attacked us—"

"Not again with that story." He said it with pity as he gazed at Harry's curse scar.

It would be no use getting people to believe him. He was too tired to even try. "I want to speak to Dumbledore. I can't help you with anything else."

"I'll tell him."

Kingsley stood, but not before giving Harry a puzzled look, and quietly left the cell. Agnes Cotter shut the iron door in front of her and sat back down.

Cotter rinsed out a rag and placed it over his forehead. He closed his eyes as he didn't want to see one of his torturers anymore. But sleep came hard because the Atoner kept waking him.

"Why do you keep waking me? My punishment is over."

"To observe your vital signs, Potter. I am a trained Healer as you know. It's not fun waking people every few hours, but it must be done."

"Then how the hell did you end up as an Atoner?"

Cotter stopped mopping up his brow and shoulders with icy cold water, and just stared at him. "You know, after all this time you've never asked me. I stole potions from St Mungo's... Sleep now, Potter. You need rest."


	13. Cell Number 13

**Cell Number 13**

"UP! GET UP NOW!" an Atoner shouted. His wand rapped hard on the iron doors each time he passed a cell.

Harry woke swiftly. He rubbed his eyes and stared at the black ceiling.

He was weakened, though he now managed to sit up in bed using his own strength. Agnes Cotter had continued to help him recover. The whip lacerations on his back were healing slowly. But they were cursed from the fiery whip the Atoners liked to use. He only began to walk to the cell door and back to his lumpy bed without collapsing.

Harry's cell door banged open.

"You too Potter, get your arse out of the cell," Lurchman bellowed. In a couple of strides, he and a fellow Atoner towered over Harry. They pulled him by the arms, making him fall onto the floor in a tangle of blankets.

His body felt a washed with fire once again. Lurchman threw cloth at Harry's head. Then the Atoners left to terrorise another prisoner, leaving the door open.

Fumbling, Harry picked up a grey tunic. Feeling a more awake and shivery, he untangled himself from the blankets and pulled the thin tunic over his nakedness, staring at the open entrance. He had never seen more clearly in his life without glasses. He could even distinguish the dust motes floating in front of him.

He wondered what was going on. More importantly, was it safe to walk out of his little cell? Harry knew defying the Atoners by staying in his cell would cause more harm than joining his fellow inmates.

He slowly made his way out of the cell. His cell was bare except for his old smelly bed, a small table and stool, and a trench by a corner used as a toilet. Near the doorway, there was a metal bowl, a cup and a spoon.

He noticed for the first time, perhaps because there was light coming into his cell that the walls, untouched by Harry's escape, was defaced with graffiti. Some were scratched into the stone bricks, others more chillingly, written in blood.

Grasping the cold iron door, he pulled himself out and the sight he saw made him gasp. Lining the walls of the Black Square, all the prisoners stood, like a filthy grey ribbon. Some stood proud, their chins up, looking straight ahead. Others were hunch-backed and gaunt, their eyes sunken and soulless, while a few trembled, frightened. Harry straightened up, cringing with every little effort as he scanned the area.

They were all men and women, young and old. Guilty or innocent, they were all broken. The oldest prisoner was a little old wizard with a dirty silver beard that reached his waist. While Harry thought he was the youngest. The war touched had them all, no matter which side they were on.

Harry recognised a few familiar Death Eaters; MacNair, Yaxley, Rookwood and Barty Crouch Jr. They didn't look fearsome now.

All eyes were turned on him. They were either curious or frightened to see him back. The Death Eaters he recognised, and a lot more of those he didn't, acknowledged him silently. The respect showed and Harry found it disquieting and uncomfortable.

The armed Atoners patrolled in the middle of the square. Harry noticed that Agnes Cotter was nowhere to be seen.

"Hold your hands out," Brodes boomed, as he walked around, his bald head reflecting in a thousand candle lights.

Harry copied exactly what the other prisoners did. He didn't want to get one movement wrong. Manacles and chains suddenly materialised around their wrists and ankles, and a long chain snaked between them, linking them together. He tested their strength, before giving in. No one spoke; all had bowed their heads now as the Atoners moved around them.

"You have forty minutes of exercise," Willis rasped, observing them as though they were a herd of sheep. "Lovegood, you may begin…"

Harry looked up so suddenly, he felt dizzy. _Lovegood? Where?_

The chain in front tugged at him, everyone was slowly moving. Their bare feet shuffled along on the cold stone floor. Harry almost fell with his first step, but somehow managed to keep upright, always trying to focus on Lovegood's dirty, long blonde hair. Harry's thoughts turned to Luna, and he wondered if she was alive in this world.

Harry was obviously slowing everyone down. Not only was he not in the condition to walk, now his mind was too distracted by Xenophilius Lovegood's leading the circle of prisoners.

"Keep moving, Potter."

It was a barely a whisper, but Harry turned his head toward the prisoner behind him. Yaxley had placed his hand on his back, pushing him forward.

When the Atoners were not looking in his direction, Harry heard Yaxley whispering.

"Is there any news from the outside? Is my family ok?"

Harry shook his head and shrugged.

"Has the Dark Lord given us orders?"

He shook his head again.

"Keep moving or you'll encounter their wrath again."

Harry felt the Death Eater place something into his hip pocket.

"For you." Then not another word was uttered again.

The exercise was monotonous and tiring for them. The Atoners grew restless and began joking to themselves, occasionally cracking a whip to scare them. One Atoner grabbed a female prisoner and tried to kiss her. The poor witch was terrified as they laughed and mocked her. It made Harry furious.

Even though there seemed to be no action between the prisoners except for their moving feet, Harry noticed interesting signs of communication. Whenever the Atoners looked away, some did exactly what Yaxley had done: placing things into prisoners' pockets; others passed these objects or messages up the line.

Harry began to wonder what was in his pocket. In fact he could not wait to see it. Perhaps it was from Lovegood himself.

He saw the trapdoor in the middle was empty again. Harry shook off the memory of feeling of the lash cracking upon his back.

"Stop. Time's up," Willis shouted. "Move around to your cells." The prisoners obeyed. Lovegood moved to his and the circle of prisoners moved in line with him. Harry shuffled to cell number 13 and Yaxley to cell number 12, and so on.

"Hands out in front."

The chains slithered away and vanished with a clink.

"Back into your cells you worthless fucks."

Harry moved in as quickly as he could into the dim light of his cell. The door slammed behind him.

He breathed out long and slow, feeling the tension flow into the stale air. The door had a slat wide enough for food to be put through. He looked out, watching the Atoners patrol. He quickly retrieved the message in his pocket and unravelled it with shaking fingers.

_August 16th, 1998_

_There is a rumour that the Dark Lord is weakening. Is there any truth to this?_

_Crouch_

Just thinking about it made his mood better. He looked around for anything to write back with.

When Harry looked back down at the piece of withered, old paper he saw that the words had vanished. Gut instinct took over.

" _No… Potter._ "

The letters slowly scripted onto the paper and vanished. It reminded Harry of Riddle's diary. The magic was so subtle, so oblivious to the Atoners. The only magic preformed within the cells was by the Atoners and Aurors. This was a very serious flaw and it put a smile on Harry's lips.

Harry placed the paper into a ripped hole of his pillow for safe keeping and lay down. He fell to sleep instantly, only waking to receive food. The gruel was slopped onto his little bowl and foul smelling water poured into his cup. He could hardly finish it, but he forced himself to. The prisoners only had one unsustaining meal every day.

Without a window, there was no sense of time within the cell. Day was night, night was day. It was all the same. Harry wondered when Dumbledore would come, if he ever did. He peered through the slat in the door. There was no one except for the Atoners.

Hours passed when Harry heard the iron door to his cell scrape open. He instantly thought it was Dumbledore. There was a moment of hope, but it was quickly dashed. Instead he experienced dread and a darkness within him so thick that his insides tensed. There was no way he could escape from this.

They had finally come for him, just as Brodes had hinted.

Harry flung himself out of bed, backing himself into the corner. He gripped the tiny table next to him.

Brodes strolled in with Bill Meryn and Octarius Caster, as though they owned the cell, and perhaps thinking that they owned him. Brodes gripped his thick leather belt, looking around the cell, amused. Caster tapped a club against his fingers and Meryn moved forward with his wand out and pointed at Harry.

Then Gregory Brodes grinned, his teeth all perfect and gleaming white. Again his irises were almost black. Harry knew Brodes was getting sick pleasure out of this. "Good evening Potter, did you miss us? We missed you."

Harry flung the table at the wizards.

* * *

Lily brushed away a loose strand of her sister's golden hair as she slept. Petunia's eyes had to be taped shut or her eyes would be wide open.

Even though it was midnight, Lily didn't want to sleep. She simply gazed into her sister's face, willing her awake. While Lily had taken more of their mother's looks, Petunia looked more like their father.

Petunia was frightfully cold so Lily lifted the blankets to her chin, and smoothed them out lovingly. Octavia Miles had reassured her that she was stable. Whether she would wake up one day was another matter.

Octavia was currently sleeping in the armchair after a long arduous shift. Normally the Order would have imprisoned Octavia for such a betrayal, but Lily insisted that they shouldn't. She was only doing what any desperate mother would do to save her child.

The Healer told them that Lucius Malfoy had approached her and offered her daughter, Emily, in exchange for trapping Lily and James. They weren't strangers to kidnap attempts on their lives, but this had gone deeper: they used a vulnerable Order member.

Dumbledore told Octavia that Emily was now an inducted Death Eater, and would not hesitate to kill her. Only then did the truth sink in. The Healer burst into tears telling them how sorry she was.

In the end, nobody was hurt on their side. She couldn't believe Severus helped them, although Dumbledore told her to keep quiet about it.

"Lily…"

James was leaning against the door frame in a singlet and paisley pants, his lean arms folded. "Come to bed."

"I will, soon."

His warm fingers brushed her shoulders. He kissed her, before wrapping his arms around her. She rested her head on his chest. Ever since Petunia's rescue, Lily and James had made more of an effort to spend time together, and it seemed to be helping their relationship.

"I hope she wakes soon." A little part of her refused to believe what the experts had said.

"Could you imagine her shock?"

"Of course, James, she's been cursed—"

"I mean the shock that she's in our house."

Lily huffed. "What are we going to do about Vernon and Dudley? We can't keep charming their phone to speak in Petunia's voice every time they ring from overseas. They need to know."

James pulled his arms away and sat on the arm of her chair. "Vernon will want her moved immediately. He will not want to set foot into this house."

She nodded.

"Let's wait until she wakes up and then we'll tell them." He gazed quickly over his sister-in-law's still body. "Never in a million years would I see a Muggle like her, under this roof. What—?"

Both saw a bright green flash outside the window. The light turned the white lace curtains into a brilliant green.

"GET DOWN!" James pulled Lily beneath the bed.

_BOOOOOOOOOOOM!_

Out of nowhere there was a loud earth shaking sound, like a bomb had gone off. The little guest bedroom shook, the lamp on the bedside table crashed to the floor and portraits fell.

Octavia woke in fright, and so did the rest of the house's occupants.

"MUMMMYYYY!" Jessica screamed.

Lily fought her way free from James's grip, running to check on her children. It was all a blur in the hallway. Faces peered out. Remus and Sirius appeared out of nowhere.

"Mum, Dad, what's going on?" Chris asked hurriedly, as Jessica wrapped her little body around her.

Michael answered first, as he peered out of the hallway window, his eyes as big as saucers. " _Shit,_ Look at Godric's Hollow—"

Lily had to see for herself. Green flames rose like blades of grass into the night sky. Explosions continued, and within the midst of the flames and smoke and screams from Muggles and wizards alike. Curses flung this way and that in a multitude of colours. A battle was happening right on their doorstep.

Lily gasped. "Death Eaters!"

"And Grindelwald supporters," James added, holding her hand tightly.

"There are battles occurring in Hogsmeade, Diagon Alley, and other larger Wizarding towns as we speak," Sirius said in awe. "Grindelwald supporters are trying to flush out the Death Eaters patrolling the areas."

"Get out," Remus yelled to Lily. He pulled Jessica away from her mother and clasped a cloak around her shoulders.

"Come on, James," Sirius urged. There was excitement in his voice.

"NO, JAMES!" Lily screamed as Remus led her and her children towards the fireplace in the living room. "YOU'RE COMING WITH US."

James was torn. "I've got to fight—"

"NO YOU DON'T!"

"LILY, GET THE KIDS OUT!" Sirius yelled, he grabbed Lily by the shoulders and gave her a kiss on the forehead, his hands cradled her cheeks. "It's going to be all right," he said, grinning.

He let her go and James took over. "Don't worry," he told her, then kissed her on the lips.

Sirius pulled him out into the inferno that was Godric's Hollow. As soon as the front door opened, the heat and fiery ashes seeped in. The screams were horrendous. More Order members appeared within the house and out, ready to fight.

Professor McGonagall appeared with Flitwick and Hagrid. They were all supporting a very limp Professor Sprout.

"Quickly, Pomona needs help!" Flitwick squeaked. Hagrid and Remus lowered the Herbology teacher onto the floor. Her breaths were short and raspy. Octavia knelt by her side, checking her over.

"Grindelwald supporters have lost their battle in Hogsmeade," Minerva puffed. Blood ran down her cheek. Professor Flitwick was sporting a black eye.

"I'm not surprised. That is, after all, Voldemort's stronghold," Remus replied.

"We didn't intervene there, but decided to see the damage Grindelwald's army would inflict."

"Still, you're all hurt," Octavia said as she checked Professor Sprout's vital signs.

"Yeh, no one a match to ter giants hiding in ter forest," Hagrid growled, eyeing Godric's Hollow as another explosion lit up the sky.

Octavia hovered the professor towards the fireplace. "I'll take her to the Burrow. Petunia's there now. Lily lets go, I'll need your help with the injured Flooing in!"

"I'm not going, I'm going to stay and fight."

"MUM!" Her children were terrified.

"No you're not, not this time." Remus pushed them all into the grate. The Floo flames engulfed her. Tears covering her cheeks, she prayed, _please, please let them be safe._ She held onto her three children as they whirled into the safety of the Burrow.

* * *

"Potter," Agnes Cotter whispered as she stemmed the blood from his broken nose, "You mustn't fight them every time they come into your cell."

Harry huffed, resting his sore head on the stone wall. His grey tunic was now ripped apart and drenched with blood. "I'm not giving in!" The memory of Brodes's hot breath on the back of his neck made him sick to the stomach. "I'll fight them again if I have to."

Cotter looked at him as though he had gone insane. He knew she was judging him, but she didn't question him. Instead she just helped him back to bed.

Harry suddenly wanted to tell her that he was a Mirror, yet he knew she would think he had _really_ gone mad.

She drew out her wand and muttered, " _Episkey."_

The pain Harry experienced vanished and his nose healed. He threw the blood soaked cloth from his nose across the room in a fit of rage. He was angry and wanted to kill them or lash out. How dare they even violate him like that?

"Potter, just take my advice, fighting them will only make things worse for you."

Cotter moved onto his dislocated shoulder and fixed it with a small, painful pop. "Now, roll onto your side and pull you knees up," she said, peeling off his tunic. "I need to examine you—"

"No!" Harry pushed her away roughly and covered himself. "I'm fine." He could deal with his more _intimate_ injuries without her help.

She sighed. "Call for me if you're in pain or don't stop bleeding." She had a spare tunic with her and she helped him into it. Cotter pulled a small vial from her navy blue robes, handing it to him. "Drink this. It'll calm you, and lessen the effects of the events."

Harry gladly took the clear vial. "Thank you." He thought about drinking it for a moment. He was scared that once his anger vanished, that he'd feel the shame instead. Scared too, that he'd become in tuned to that little part of himself that died the moment that Brodes won.

"Drink it, Potter. It will help," she urged.

The clear thick liquid tasted bitter and sweet at the same time and stuck to his tongue for awhile. He felt the effects instantly. Everything that had occurred lifted, it was as though a huge weight drifted away and he could breathe again. He felt a golden wash of serenity, and a dull sense of happiness.

"What is this stuff?" He handed the empty vial back.

Cotter stared for a moment. "You've had it before… several times." Then she hesitated. "I never give out its name and it can be quite addictive if used incorrectly. I use it sparingly, although some of the prisoners use it often. The Atoners give it to them for certain… favours."

Harry scowled and she proceeded to help him find a comfortable position in bed. It was then that the graffiti on the walls suddenly became interesting to him.

_Find the Stitch. Find the Stitch. A Stitch in time saves nine._

"What…?" Harry drank in the words, and then pointed to them. "What does it all mean?"

Cotter narrowed her eyes. "Potter, you tell me."

As Harry lay in bed curled into a tight ball, blissfully ignoring the events of the night, he rummaged through his pillow pulling out the piece of paper. He decided he wouldn't send Crouch a reply. Instead he whispered, _"Do you know what the Stitch is?"_

He would send it to the one person who might know: Mr Lovegood.

Harry stared at the dark brown graffiti on the wall until he fell into a fevered sleep. His screams… the horrible pain, and the heavy weight of something on him, was mixed with an echo of someone else's torment. His Mirror's he soon realised. Again, he was unwittingly connecting with him and he hated it.

Amidst the blackness of his mind, Harry saw glimpses of water around him and pale hands. There was the need for oxygen, and the terror of something else besides the fear of drowning.

_Harrrrrrryyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy..._

That voice was faint, yet chilling. It sent a shiver into his soul. There was an indescribable feeling of loss from it, but whatever it was Harry wanted to get far away from it.

_"Your mine, Potter,"_ a different voice whispered.

"No… no, let me wake up," he said into the nothingness.

And then within the darkness, a Hogwarts corridor materialised, hazy and wispy, like a thick veil had been placed over Harry's eyes.

He saw himself—the Mirror loitering near the Slytherin common room, leaning against the wall. His arms were crossed and his head arched back. He looked terribly pale and emaciated. Under the hood of his Hogwarts robes, his hair was long. The Mirror looked on the verge of decay, but there was no mistaking the power surrounding him. It was like his Mage power was eating away at his body and soul.

Who was he waiting for after curfew? thought Harry.

"Potter…" The sallow voice down the corridor echoed around them.

The boy's eyes flicked open. "Snape—"

From the shadows, the black robed figure emerged. Harry had the feeling Snape had been watching the Mirror for a while.

_"Professor_ Snape," he corrected icily. "I don't know why you're two weeks late for sixth year, but I do believe that isn't enough time to forget the location of Gryffindor dorm."

The Mirror grimaced as he unfurled his crossed arms. He took one last look down the dark corridor where Slytherin dorm was and stalked off.

"Potter," Snape called after him staring at the boy's back with scrutinising eyes. "Where have you been for two months?"

He stopped, and stared stonily back, fingers twitching. "On holidays."

"You should go to the Hospital Wing. Perhaps your _holiday_ overexerted you."

"I don't need—"

"Headmaster Dumbledore's been asking for you, you know."

"Why?"

"That's the million galleon question, Potter. _Why?"_ Snape whispered. "You're nothing special."

"I agree." The Mirror cocked his head. "He's always had an unhealthy fascination with me—"

"Go see him in the Hospital Wing. He's receiving visitors now."

A dark expression masked Mirror Harry's face as he hesitantly stepped forward. "How did he escape?"

"He managed and apparently broke through the defences of a dungeon. He killed a few in the process. He doesn't remember much. He suffered terrible head injuries… He always asks about you… I wonder why."

Potter smirked. "Bet you heard that from other sources."

" _Everyone_ knows… and every stone in this castle sees what you are doing, Mr Potter," Snape hissed.

"Are we done here, _sir_?"

The wispy Hogwarts memory disappeared as Harry heard something slithering in the walls and the words of a giant snake looking for blood.

Harry gasped for air.

* * *

The days wore on with a bland, terrifying routine. The prisoners would wake with the Atoners screaming at them and every second day they would be made to exercise.

Rookwood led the circle during Harry's second exercise regime. Heart thumping, he waited until the Atoners were listening to a joke Brodes was telling them to slip the note into a pocket of the prisoner in front of him. "Lovegood," he whispered into the air.

The prisoner ahead turned slightly. His grizzly grey hair was foul and putrid and his grey beard was thick. He carefully pulled out the note when the Atoners weren't watching and repeated the process. By the end of the exercise period, the note just made it into Lovegood's pocket.

"Back to your cells," Brodes sang.

Harry caught Barty Crouch's eye, before entering his cell and shook his head in response to his question. With a nod, Crouch retreated.

"Remember, if you wish to confess your crimes and suffer a quick death, there's paper and ink in your top drawer," Brodes added, tapping the whip gently on his thigh.

Back in the darkness of his cell, he paced up and down, thinking about the graffiti, the enigmatic words his Mirror had written.

Sometimes in exhaustion, Harry would just sleep, other times he turned his mind to back home and thought about possible locations of Horcruxes and if Ron and Hermione had succeeded in finding any. In other moments, Harry would think about Ashley and Tony. Then of course the memories of Brodes and his cronies would slither into his mind. There would be no escape from them.

Then there came an hour when everything, every movement and every thought was a chore. Thinking just about anything was useless. Harry had no desire to do anything, but stare at the walls, always at the walls. When he closed his eyes, he saw nothing except the writing…

_The Stitch, find the Stitch… A Stitch in time saves nine… The Stitch… Find the Stitch… The Stitch…_

The words must have driven his Mirror mad.

Harry expected a response from Lovegood, quickly, but none came. Exercise after exercise, Lovegood ignored him deliberately. Every time Harry tried to catch his attention, he looked away.

Then Brodes visited him again and again, the fight that ensued left him weak and wounded and disgusted. But he vowed he would no give in to their assault, even if it killed him.

During the fifth exercise regime, Harry got a note. He wasn't sure that it belonged to Lovegood, but any communication, from anyone would break the nightmarish routine he had fallen into when all was quiet and dark in his cell.

Harry jolted when he slammed into the body in front. The line had stopped moving. He looked towards the commotion and saw that a female prisoner had collapsed. The Atoners moved like a pack around her. Her fellow inmates to her front and back urged her to get up, but Harry could tell she was too exhausted. She was gaunt and her ratty, brown hair in a long mess.

"Move away, now," Willis boomed as he whipped the prisoners helping the witch.

"No! NO, PLEASE NOT THE TRAPDOOR! I'LL GET UP, PLEASE DON'T!" the witch screamed. Two Atoners manhandled her and threw her into the trapdoor.

"KEEP MOVING!" Lurchman yelled, over the witch's pleas and tears, whipping the prisoners to move again.

Harry was stunned, and it took a painful prod from Yaxley to get him walking.

_"Cunts!"_ spat the wizard chained in front of Harry.

Harry and Yaxley froze. Willis turned in their direction and caught Harry's disgusted expression. "Who spoke?"

The wizard who had spoken fell silent and Harry found himself unable to respond. Willis slowly approached them, judging him, Yaxley and the unnamed wizard.

"That was very unwise." The whip Willis held forced Harry's chin up. He didn't blink, wishing to burn a hole through the Atoner's head.

"Was it you, Potter?" Willis growled. "We've grown used to your mad little rants."

"It was Fletcher, Atoner Willis," Yaxley spoke, his words in a thick Scottish accent. "Potter and I will vouch that it was him."

All that went through Harry's mind was the thought of that charmed fiery whip, the pain, the trapdoor, and pure hate.

The wizard to the right of him had a stoic expression on his face. It was then that he recognised him as Mundungus Fletcher.

"Filthy stinkin' Death Eaters!" Dung roared.

Yaxley sneered.

Willis narrowed his eyes, calculating the situation. "Yes, Fletcher… yes it sounded like you."

He uncoiled his whip and lashed it across the side of Mundungus's head. The wizard cried out in pain, hand pressing on the wound. The chains snaked away and the wizard backed away from the approaching Atoners.

"DON'T YOU TOUCH ME!" Dung yelled, cowering like a frightened animal.

Willis cracked his whip on the ground, and now it glowed red. "Calling us cunts, eh?"

"Beg your pardons sirs, I didn't mean it. It was a slip of my tongue," he snivelled, shaking.

"Just a slip of the tongue..." Brodes repeated, smiling.

Two Atoners grabbed Mundungus by the arms and shoved him into the middle of the Black Square. He was chained to an iron peg and made to kneel.

"BACK TO YOUR CELLS, NOW!" Willis roared.

The prisoners quickly obeyed. Harry rushed to the furthered corner of his. Doors were slammed shut. He covered his ears as the screams were terrifying. He didn't wish to see or hear or see what was happening to Dung.

A part of him felt sick at the thought that he didn't defend Mundungus, and stop them from hurting him. But another part was glad he wasn't the one that was chained and tortured.

The screaming soon stopped and the silence was a godsend. The iron doors were opened and the prisoners were made to stand in solemn silence outside of their cells. They were all staring at the naked, tortured body of Dung in the middle. His tongue had been cut out. None of them seemed shocked or saddened as they stood with a dead expression on their faces.

For Harry, he looked away, angry and disgusted. Then the guilt rose in him, like the rising sun, hot and red, making his insides squirm. He killed Dung…

"Let this be a warning," Willis said calmly, "We will not tolerate such behaviour."

In his dark cell, Harry lay on his bed listless, every time he closed his eyes, he could see Dung. He shook away the image. _The Stitch…_ He concentrated on the graffiti and suddenly remembered that he still had not read the note. He quickly pulled it open and read the contents.

_I suppose this 'Stitch' you are referring to, is the Obsidian Stitch. It is a fabled dagger used in Dark rituals. Nobody knows if it truly exists or its origins._

_I am not interested in Dark objects. Do not contact me again._

_Lovegood._

Harry looked up at the graffiti on the walls. His Mirror was looking for it, but why? What was this dagger?

He fell into a fevered sleep, but the thought of the dagger never left him. It coursed its way through his dream as he sped down a never-ending corridor filled with iron doors.

_He was trying to escape, but inside every door he opened, Mundungus's corpse stood, his tongueless mouth spoke._

" _A Stitch in time…"_

_Harry slammed the door in the corpse's face and ran down to another door, but Mundungus greeted him on the other side of it._

" _Saves nine…"_

" _GET OUT—LEAVE ME ALONE," Harry shouted. He gasped when he saw blood on his hands. It was Dung's blood and again and again, every door he opened, the corpse tormented him._

_A slow clap began behind him. Then there was a laugh—an all too familiar laugh._

" _You can't escape, Potter. You're mine," Brodes laughed, his eyes totally black. He licked his bottom lip._ _Meryn, and Caster then appeared, rapping their weapons on the cell bars._

" _No—NO!" Harry started to run, but he couldn't get away from them._

_Suddenly, the corridor changed and he was falling, falling into a black abyss. He heard shouts and it sounded like his own voice._

Harry suddenly woke, he inhaled water. Confused, all he could see was water, cold and freezing, covering him. He struggled, but strong hands held him down. He was going to drown. He could hear strange unearthly whispers around him, and cold ghostly hands touching him.

_Harrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrryyyyyyy..._

That voice again.

_Do you feel us, Harry?_

_We know you're here… we know…_

And then the reprieve; he was pulled up, gulping for air. Harry coughed violently. Wizards in black robes surrounded him, all wearing golden masks. They weren't Atoners, but they weren't Death Eaters either.

"Fight it, Potter," an Irish wizard in a golden mask spoke, holding Harry's chin up.

"FUCK YOU!"

But the words weren't from Harry's own mouth. Confused, he soon realised he was seeing and feeling what his Mirror was experiencing.

The golden masked wizard sighed. "Again."

He was forced into the water once more.

Harry woke up gasping, clinging onto his thin tunic. However, he had no time to examine what was happening to his Mirror. The cell door creaked open.

"NO!" Harry yelled, scrambling out of bed. The contents of his dream and vision escaped into darkness.

He expected to see Brodes, but as his eyesight adjusted to the light pouring into his cell, he realised that it was only one tall wizard.

"Harry…" The voice was calm, filled with concern. "I will not hurt you," Dumbledore said gently, as a person would when trying to capture an injured animal.

Dumbledore walked into the cell. He was much different to the Dumbledore Harry remembered fondly and more recently, with much anger, in his own world. This Mirror looked much older, more solemn, and his blue eyes shone no trademark twinkle, no amusement… nothing. He hinted nothing, and Harry felt no connection with the man.

"May I sit?" Dumbledore asked. Harry nodded, he was unable to speak... to feel. With his back turned, the old wizard whirled his wand around and a chintz chair popped into view.

Harry would've offered the stool, but that lay splintered into pieces in a corner of the room. He had hid one of the stool legs under his mattress, slowly sharpening it on the stone, ready for the next time Brodes entered his cell.

"You've wanted to speak with me?"

"…Took you long enough," Harry snarled. He sat gingerly on the edge of his bed, facing Dumbledore.

"I apologise for not coming sooner. The war does not stop while you are in prison, and a lot has happened since you were returned here."

There was a moment of silence. Harry opened his mouth, but he was speechless. Dumbledore waited expectantly.

"Sir, I'm not—"

"I know," the old wizard bowed his head.

He took Harry's hand gently. His warmth seeped into his cold skin.

_"Know?"_

"I've known since the very moment you entered this world."


	14. The Favour

**The Favour**

_No… this is a mistake_ … _I misheard him…_

Harry paced up and down keen to be far away from Dumbledore. Movement helped him to think and lessen the brooding range of emotions he was beginning to feel. He needed to suppress his impulse to lash out.

Dumbledore sat in silence, sitting rather regally in his floral pink chair, with only a steely expression on his face. "We can speak freely…"

Finally, the shock wore off. "So—so, let me get this straight, you've _really_ known from—from the moment I've entered this Mirror Universe— that I'm a different Harry Potter?"

"That is, indeed, correct." Dumbledore nodded gravely.

Harry drew in a deep breath, feeling both hurt and anger rushing through his veins. He felt the pressure rise, ready to explode. "Then why the hell— please tell me why you've left me in here?"

Dumbledore bowed his head once more. Harry couldn't take the silence any longer.

"I WANT ANSWERS!"

And then all his frustration, humiliation, the torture and violations he had suffered burst forth like a dragon letting out a hot searing breath.

"DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT I'VE BEEN THROUGH?"

Harry couldn't raise his voice high enough. He wanted every single word to pierce through Dumbledore, to injure him horribly, just like the Atoners had made Harry endure.

"I'm an innocent man! I have nothing to do with this world. I have my own war to deal with!"

"I know."

Dumbledore's voice was soft, like a whisper. Harry was incensed that he still had his head bowed, still spoke calmly back.

"Look at me," Harry spoke over the man he had once trusted and admired. "LOOK AT ME!"

The headmaster obeyed. When Harry saw the tears glistening in the old wizard's eyes, he hesitated.

"I am so sorry, Harry. Please sit down."

He realised he was standing over Dumbledore now, his hands in tight fists.

"Please sit… I have a favour to ask of you."

_A favour?_ Harry just wanted to escape this place for good.

With the dim candlelight flickering above their heads, he sat down. He tried to steady his shallow breathing, to settle the anger slithering round and round in his chest like a big snake, constricting his heart.

"Thank you." Dumbledore blinked several times. "I am deeply ashamed of what has transpired here, but your imprisonment, however innocent you are, and your suffering, will not be in vain—"

"What—?"

"—Let me speak—"

"I'm all ears!" Harry snarled venomously.

"I know you are deeply angry and suffering, however I only ask—this is the favour I ask—that you patiently wait a in here a little longer—"

"You want me to rot in here until you're ready to get me out?"

"I cannot get you out even if I could."

He started pacing up and down the cell again. Punching the stone wall, punching the graffiti until the blood hid it suddenly sounded so appealing, but what he really wanted to do was punch this world's Dumbledore right in the face. "Did you plan this? Did you want me in here?"

"No," Dumbledore said, shaking his head. "It was never my intention for this to happen. I was going to see you when you were in the Potter's basement. I was going to get you out of their house in secret and take you to a secure location—"

"Jessica saw me. She let me out."

"I never realised how clever Jessica really is, despite her damaged mind..."

Harry was furious. "I thought you were hostile—that you couldn't trust anything I said. I thought the Order would torture me!"

"Lies Harry... I said things to the Order so they wouldn't question your existence, and no, we would never have resorted to such actions."

"So you weren't going to tell my Mirror parents I existed?" Harry was in shock.

"You are in so much danger, Harry. So is your Mirror. I was going to ask for your help—"

"Why didn't you track me down?"

"I tried, but I was curious, I wanted to see how you would survive, how powerful you were… and waited for you to ask for my assistance."

"I can't believe this!"

"I know this is hard, but I hope it won't be much longer. Perhaps three more weeks—"

" _Weeks?"_ Harry hissed _._ This cannot be happening. Out of all people who could've helped him, he did not expect Dumbledore to keep him in here.

"The time has to be right and we must have the right resources to free you. Please stay strong, Harry. Do not do anything rash, you will not survive in here."

"Don't you think I _fucking_ know that?" He was absolutely outraged. How could he do anything against the injustices within the Black Square without being killed? "Do you have any clue what the Atoners do to people in here?"

"Yes. It is the price of war and regrettably the price you've paid for coming here. Even though you are, as you say, an innocent man."

"So it's like that, is it?" Harry laughed out loud towards the dark ceiling, swatting away the hovering candle, making its light dance erratically. "So, you want me to just happily bend over the next time they come in here—?"

"I _know_ exactly what they've done to you, Harry. It tears at my soul to know of your suffering," Dumbledore replied hurryingly. "We will get you out, you will recover from your injuries, and I will do everything in my power to help you get back home. Your world needs you. However, we need you as well."

_Fuck this world's problems!_ The war here could go on for another twenty-eight years.

Eyes squeezed shut, Ashley and Tony's faces appeared in his mind, and then his heart fell into a bottomless pit. He couldn't leave them stranded, could he? He took a deep breath.

"I don't care about this world!"

"I think you do. It's in your nature. You are everything your mother is, except for looks."

"But why can't you get me out _now_? Don't you understand I have my own battle to fight? My friends need me. I need to destroy all of Voldemort's Horcruxes before I can finish him off."

"May I ask how many have you destroyed?"

Harry then realised that Voldemort had created Horcruxes in this world as well. "Three so far and there's another three to be found. We were looking for Ravenclaw's—."

"Diadem." Dumbledore gazed deeply into Harry's face for a brief moment, a frown playing on his lips.

"And that is precisely why you've turned up here, Harry. The diadem had never been kept in the Giant's Cut. Voldemort—I'm sure as interested as he would be in the properties of the cave—would've been too oblivious to realise its power to go there."

Harry felt deflated. Their entire trip, the months spent on the diadem had been wasted after all. This is why, with all his longing, he wished Dumbledore had not died in his world.

"But you are right. The diadem is a Horcrux."

"Have you destroyed the Horcruxes as well?" Harry cautiously asked. "I mean, unless you've been reading my mind like a book, you don't seem at all surprised by all the information I'm giving you."

"I never destroyed any of them."

Harry could've asked who had, but instead he wanted answers on more pressing issues. Besides, the destruction of the Horcruxes of this world was not his problem. "How did I end up in this world, then?"

"The Giant's Cut had been a place where Rowena experimented with Mirror Portkeys… I suppose the book had been floating towards you?"

"Yeah, it came my way and I just grabbed it."

"The Mirror Portkey had been drawn to you because the universe it had been connected to was close to your own. The other Mirror Portkeys—however intriguing they might have been—would be worlds entirely different from your own. Perhaps, there may be a world out there where your mother married Severus Snape—"

Harry laughed out mirthlessly. "When pigs fly!"

Dumbledore raised his bushy eyebrows. "Nevertheless, there is an endless supply of Mirror Universes out there. Rowena only touched upon a few of them..."

"Do you know if she ever travelled here?"

"Rowena travelled to every world she discovered, only for a minute or so. I find it amazing how many similarities both our worlds have."

"This world is nothing like my own. Our war only started gathering pace over a year ago, yours has lasted many years. Besides, I am nothing like your Harry!" He paced the cell again.

"Yes, you may not be a murdering Death Eater like your Mirror, but you are exactly like the boy I remember fondly and proudly taught."

"Why did he switch allegiance then? From what I heard his story doesn't quite add up."

"That is something I am trying to rectify. There were a series of events that… turned Harry, I think."

"Which you're not going to tell me about," said Harry scathingly.

"I would not say in here." Dumbledore smiled knowingly. "But he was a caring boy, always concerned with the welfare of others, always doing his best to create an alliance between the houses of Hogwarts. He even formed a friendship with Draco Malfoy." Dumbledore shook his head. "He had won him over to the Order."

Harry found the concept of a friendship with Malfoy quite repulsive.

"Then please," he pleaded as he sat down opposite Dumbledore, fingers lightly touching the wizard's woollen blue sleeves. "Please just remember that boy you taught and get me out now. I'll help you with, with anything…"

"But you are helping me. You are helping many people."

"How? You're not explaining everything to me!" His anger was swelling up again.

Dumbledore stared at him. "I'm guessing that you are beginning to experience newfound powers and abilities the longer you stay here."

"Yes," he agreed. "When I met Harry in the cave, he mentioned—something about being able to change and develop into your Mirrored version."

"He tracked you down the first time, because he had been waiting near his family's residence, but he found you running away instead. You were a curious sight for him. Yes, what he said is correct. You'll start to experience things…"

"Like visions—"

"Being able to see without glasses and Mage magic—"

"I had a strange dream before you came in, about Harry. He was being interrogated, I think—"

"My dear boy, I do not care for the whereabouts or what is happening to _our_ misguided Harry. What I'm interested in at this very moment is _you_ and what you can do for me."

Heat rose into Harry's face. "Because you refuse to help me?"

Dumbledore sighed. "While you begin to experience the advanced magic our Harry possesses, he will experience things you possess—abilities he used to have, but has lost in his downward spiral into the Dark side. You can help him see the path he has taken and guide him. You must help him!"

"How?"

"You've already told me how."

Harry was frustrated and hurt beyond belief. Just thinking was exhausting, and he just couldn't stand the old wizard any longer. "But I can do it—whatever you need outside of this prison!"

"That is true, however, Voldemort knows that there is only one Harry Potter and that boy is safely tucked away in the Black Square. That's one of the reasons why I can't get you out. The second reason: security has increased considerably since Harry last escaped, that trying to get you out now without proper planning would kill us all.

"Well, start planning," Harry hissed.

Dumbledore ignored him. "Harry you must keep up with this illusion. Otherwise you, _as well,_ will be in greater danger."

"I just want to go home!"

"All I can say is that I have been expecting you for a long time." And with those last few words Dumbledore stood up and the chintz chair disappeared with a crack.

"WHAT? SIR? DON'T WALK AWAY FROM ME!"

In a few short strides Dumbledore had reached the cell door.

"PLEASE!" Harry was desperate for the headmaster to stay. "What's the Obsidian Stitch?" he pointed towards the graffiti on the walls. "Where's Peter Pettigrew's Children? What's happening to Harry?"

Dumbledore turned around, appearing forlorn. "I am very sorry Harry, I cannot stay any longer. Otherwise, I too, will be arrested. What happens hence forth is for the Greater Good."

"NO!" He fell to his knees, tugging onto the wizard's robes, willing him not to leave. It felt childish and embarrassing that he was begging, but what choice did he have? "Your Mirror would've protected me from making a small cut, just to spill my blood, you—"

Dumbledore's fingers pulled away Harry's long dirty hair to reveal the lightning bolt scar. He rested his warm hand on his cheek, blue eyes on green. Harry didn't care what Dumbledore was seeing in his mind, he just let him. He didn't care any more as he felt the wizard's presence in his mind.

"Are you sure Harry? Are you sure that before _he_ died, that he was only preventing that simple cut—saving you from your small hurt—only to rip open your jugular at a later date?"

Harry was taken aback. "He wouldn't."

A sad expression veiled the old face of Albus Dumbledore. "You have endured greatly in your own world, and here. Yet we have suffered for twenty-eight years. Help us and I will help you… just hold on a little longer. Give us hope."

He let go of Dumbledore's robes, finally letting the weight of the world pile on his shoulders, drilling him into the cold stone floor.

"How many know I'm here?" Harry asked.

"Petunia Dursley, the Pettigrew children and myself... Lily is torn about you, and the doubt was blossoming in Remus, James, Kingsley and even Professor Flitwick. I lightly Confunded them when the moment arose. Nothing drastic though, I needed them to stop asking questions. I may need to work on Kingsley again..."

"My aunt will wake up—"

"Perhaps…"

"I never expected you to be so different."

"I've disappointed you. I apologise that I am not the hero and mentor you perceived I was. But I do not think you really knew him and what he was capable of in order to fix the world. I have to say, in my own defence, that the war in this world has changed everyone, including myself. I want this war to end. It has gone on for far too long."

Harry slumped and sat defeated on the floor.

"Now, I must head off… James Potter has been missing for four days since the Battle of Godric's Hollow and I must help look for him."

"Dad—James?" Lily would be devastated.

Dumbledore nodded sadly. "I'm afraid Sirius Black has been killed, his body had been discovered soon after…" His voice cracked.

Harry could tell the loss hat hit Dumbledore hard. He felt the blow as well, but strangely, even though he was saddened, there was no connection for Mirror Sirius. The Sirius, Harry missed, was the one he knew and longed for dearly.

"He was a great fighter… and a loyal friend." Dumbledore knocked on the iron door twice. "Oh and Harry, do practice your Occlumency. You will discover it will be much easier to do so now. You will need to keep our conversation within the deepest recesses of your mind or the Black Square will know your secrets."

The door creaked open on its own accord and Dumbledore left.

He was again alone.

As he suspected the quiet and the darkness curled around his body like ice. It was fiercer than anything he'd experienced thus far, as waves of emotions splashed over him and the reel of Dumbledore's words played over and over again in his mind.

_You must help him… James Potter missing, Sirius Black dead… weeks… help us, and I will help you… three more weeks…_ _What you can do for me… weeks… weeks… weeks…_

"FUCK!" Harry yelled into the nothingness. The flickering light overhead made his shadow dance ominously, like a demon taunting his newfound misery. He smashed his fists onto the stone floor. He didn't care about the pain and no tears came. He had nothing left to give, but an empty black feeling.

He had never felt so alone and abandoned in his life.

"Fuck you..."

He gave in and lay curled up in a ball, his head resting against the stone, listening to his own thumping heartbeat.

Both worlds had won against him. He had two choices now: Listen to Dumbledore and he would survive. Or fight against his oppressors and die trying to escape.

Harry had his sharpened stool leg hiding beneath his mattress. He was planning to attack Brodes and his cronies as soon as he laid their hands on him. There was no doubt in his mind that he would end up like Mundungus Fletcher.

He would never see Ginny again.

Then he remembered the words Dumbledore had spoken in the Great Hall after Cedric Diggory died at the end of his fourth year. _You must choose between what is easy and what is right…_

Fighting and dying would be the easy way out in this situation, he thought. He laughed out loud. This notion never sounded so appealing than now.

Ron… Hermione… _Ginny_ …

Harry let out a scream of utter frustration and another round of swearing. Then, using the wall for support he pulled himself up, his knees and back aching badly. He rubbed his eyes and was surprised to see a pile of warm blankets and food on his bed.

He rushed over, grabbed the loaf of bread, holding onto it for dear life and gulped down huge chucks before he could even chew it. He rummaged through the small pile Dumbledore had left him. Harry hid the thick, rough biscuits, along with some chocolate and three oranges behind a loose stone in the wall he had discovered days ago. Harry didn't even bother peeling a fat juicy orange, he ate it skin and all.

 


	15. Scratching the Surface

**Scratching the Surface**

"Breakfast's served."

Caster pushed a rusted tray with water and pale gruel through the slat of the cell door.

Harry forced himself to eat the disgusting food, and used a bit of the brown water to wash his face. He then pulled the loose brick from the wall to reveal the hidden the food Dumbledore left him. He helped himself to chocolate before plucking out an overcooked biscuit.

He stared at it with suspicion before bravely nibbling on a corner.

_"Bleargh!"_

There was something unusual about them. They weren't tasty, but he felt energised as he continued to eat it and it also helped him to think more clearly.

Harry yawned, his eyelids suddenly heavier with sleep. He lay down and focused on his Mirror. After all, the quicker he worked at helping his Mirror, the quicker Dumbledore would rescue him he hoped.

_Mirror,_ _who are you? What's happened to you?_

He dozed off for mere seconds. When he opened his eyes he was still in Cell Number 13. However, no brilliant plan about Mirror Harry came to fruition.

Propping up onto his elbows, Harry gasped. Ahead, where the graffiti covered wall usually was, a mirror spanning the wall's length, shone bright. He jumped out of bed, intrigued and excited.

_This isn't real—I'm dreaming._ He glanced at the half eaten biscuit lying on the bed, smiling.

Approaching the mirror, Harry was shocked by his own gaunt and grey reflection. _It can't be me!_ He touched the mirror in disbelief and it rippled like water. He stepped back as the ripples transformed his distorted image into a different one.

A bedroom materialised; light, airy and filled with toys and two beds. On the floor was a little black-haired boy playing with his toy cars.

Guessing what he had to do; Harry pushed his hand through the cold mirror. He wriggled his fingers and thought it was safe to go in.

He felt at peace when he entered the bedroom, and had the sudden urge to play and have fun. _This is so strange…_

Unlike the first time he'd seen a memory of his Mirror, this was clear and crisp. He could feel the breeze drifting in and smelt something burning wafting in from the kitchen.

Harry walked around to see the boy's face. The child was him with his characteristic thin face, knobbly knees, and hair that stuck up at odd angles. Though there was no scar, and the boy was wearing square-rimmed glasses. He was happy, he was well nourished, and he was greatly loved.

Harry looked away feeling a pang of jealousy. This was the life he might've had, if his parents had never died.

_"Vrrrrrrrooooooooommmm, vroom, vroom_ **…"** the Mirror played.

"HARRY, HARRY!" another child yelled. A chubby boy, around four years old, with short black hair ran into the room, carrying a box. "Look wha' I found in da' yard."

Little Harry raised his eyebrows. "Let's see it then. By the way, Charlie, Mummy will kill you if she sees all the mud you've left behind." He pointed behind his brother.

Charlie crinkled his brow at the muddy footprints. "Oh… will it make Mummy cry, like this morning?"

"She cried again?"

Charlie nodded. "It was _badder_ than last night."

Harry felt the foreboding his Mirror was experiencing. Perhaps life here wasn't that perfect.

"When did it happen?"

"When Dumbledore took you out for an ice cream—"

"Which upset you—"

"I wanted to come too! Why couldn't I come? I wanted an ice creaaaaammmm!" the child whined.

"I got you all a tub of choc-chic—"

"BUT I WANTED TO COME!" Charlie yelled, his cheeks reddening.

"It was boring, anyway." Sensing danger little Harry pressed onto a different subject, "Why did Mum cry this time?"

Charlie calmed down, licking his upper lip. "Mummy and Daddy had a fight again. She told Daddy to leave da' house."

Little Harry had the look of horror on his face before he shook it off. "It's gotta' be nothing… He'll come back… Open the box."

"All right then." Charlie sat down, and carefully peeled the lid off.

"What is it?"

Harry heard a small purring sound. He looked inside the box and saw something black, hairy and wriggling.

"Don' know. Hey Harry, did Dumbledore tell you all about his adventures?" Charlie asked as he picked up the hairy creature.

The Mirror pulled back, wary, watching his brother handle the creature with graceful ease. He shuffled away as it scuttled up his brother's arm.

Harry thought it was a baby acromantula.

"Yes, _erm_ … but not much. He talked about Hogwarts and war. Boring stuff really, and then we went into this knitting supply shop, because he wanted to make a really long scarf. And then I helped him choose the wool…"

Harry looked up and saw another large mirror where the window was seconds before. He walked around as Charlie placed the creature back in its box.

The mirror reflected dark green trees and serenity.

Sensing that the childhood memory was over, Harry knew it was time to explore the next one. He went through it, this time with more confidence.

Around him, trees swayed gently, while the ever present mist hovered on the ground this time.

It felt wonderful feeling the broken rays of sun after more than a month in prison with no natural light. Harry could stand here all day breathing in the fresh, earthy air.

"JESSICA!"

Startled, Harry swung around at the voice.

"JESSICAAAAA! SPEAK TO ME."

A much older Mirror crushed through a thicket of branches. "JESS—YOU'RE OUT OF THE PROTECTIVE BOUNDARIES. WHERE ARE YOU?"

He looked sixteen, two inches shorter than Harry, though already, he looked as though he had fought through several battles and survived. His hair was long and he wore no glasses.

Harry could hear other voices in the distance yelling for the girl now. The Mirror was terrified and Harry felt it too because he was experiencing the same emotions.

The Death Eater walked around some trees and Harry followed close behind.

They both heard a whimpering. They both turned to the source. A leap of excitement filled them. They both walked towards a wall of long grass. Mirror Harry pulled the grass away gently, discovering a small girl, huddled into a ball.

"Jess…" the Mirror whispered. He crouched down next to his sister. "Are you ok?"

Relief… Harry felt the relief.

He touched her shoulder, but she pulled away like an injured animal. Looking into his face, her brilliant light green eyes were red, wet and her pupils wide with terror, before they returned to normal.

"I-I got l-lost. I-I was so scared," she cried. She swung her arms around her brother and wailed.

" _Shhh,_ you're ok, I'm here now."

"I-I-I thought I'd never see you again." She hugged her brother tight.

"You're very lucky," he whispered. "Please don't wander off again. There are a lot of bad things out here…" he looked around trees.

Jessica nodded in agreement, crying even more.

"Let's go home." Mirror Harry held her tiny hand tightly in his own callused one. He smiled, bringing warmth back into his pale features.

Harry remembered Jessica's words. _"But you found me, Harry, and you smiled. That was the last time you smiled... You never let go of my hand…"_

Jessica sniffled, still trembling.

"Are you sure you are all right?" he asked, running his thumb over a bloodied cut on her hand. Instantly the cut healed, leaving behind a small, pink scar.

"Yes." She returned the smile.

Another mirror appeared, shimmering within the hollow of a large tree trunk and Harry stepped through it.

The room was in darkness and Harry heard one child snoring and another moaning in his sleep before waking with a scream. Lights simultaneously switched on throughout the house and Lily and James rushed into Harry and Charlie's room.

"What...?" James started.

By the time Harry turned, locating the Mirror's bed, Lily was already hugging the child, soothing away his fright. "It's okay, darling. It was only a nightmare."

The Mirror wiped his tears on his Falmouth Falcon Quidditch pajamas. "It felt so-so real!" he replied quietly.

"You've never had a nightmare before. What happened?" Lily stroked her fringe back, searching his teary eyes. Harry wished he had experienced this moment with his mother too, but he only had his aunt telling him to shut up when he had a nightmare.

Behind them, James was tucking Charlie into bed again when the Mirror spoke. "You-Know-Who—he tried to kill me."

James walked back, placing a hand on his wife's shoulder. Lily seemed worried now.

"Voldemort. His name's Voldemort, Harry. You can say it," his father urged, and the boy nodded.

"Darling, nothing will ever happen to you," Lily said, but Harry noticed she had paled. "We'll protect you and your brothers and," she patted her heavily pregnant belly, "your sister."

"But... but Neville Longbottom died with his parents. What—what if it happens to us soon?"

Startled, Lily pulled back. "What makes you think that?"

James knelt by his son. "What did Dumbledore tell you?"

The Mirror covered his face. "He told me about the prophecy. About me, Neville and Vol-Voldemort."

Lily's face reddened. Harry knew she was furious and James looked livid. "He told you when he took you to Diagon Alley, didn't he? He wasn't supposed to. No wonder you've been so quiet lately, and your teacher says you're not concentrating in class as much. What else did he say?"

"That I might have to help in the war when I'm grown up." The boy looked up again, his face blank of emotion now and his eyes dried now. "I want to know what's happening with the war... I want to be prepared. Mummy I saw so much green light…so many skulls…"

"Harry, I don't want you worrying about the war. I just want you to enjoy being a kid." Lily squeezed his hand.

"I need to learn as much as I can—"

"You're eight years old and you're too young to learn magic," Lily said aghast. "You're going to learn how to build a bloody toy train with Sirius tomorrow, not how to fight—How dare Dumbledore tell you without asking for our permission!"

"Calm down Lily," James snapped. "Listen, Harry, in three years you'll go to Hogwarts and it will be fantastic," James grinned. "Keep your head in the books, study Defence, Charms and Transfig cosely, and choose your friends wisely. Just... just stay out of trouble."

"But Dumbledore—"

"Don't believe everything Dumbledore says. I'll be having a word or two with him tomorrow." James ruffled his son's hair.

A mirror appeared on the wardrobe door and Harry, feeling curious, went through.

He was standing outside the Potters residence, watching his heavily cloaked Mirror open the front door. They were almost the exact same height now. He looked so worn out and unkempt. Dark circles were around his eyes, and he was gaunt.

"Hello… Mum, Dad?" Mirror Harry walked into the open kitchen where a gaggle of Order members stood. An Order meeting had finished and the members were clasping cloaks, finishing off their tea, shaking hands or hugging each other goodbye.

"HARRY!" Lily yelled. She caught her son in a tight hug before he had a chance to respond, kissing his cheek several times. "Thank God you're back! Where have you been? You've been gone for four months—I hate it when you leave for long periods like this."

"I wrote to you every few weeks!"

"I know, but your messages were always short and cryptic—Are you all right?"

The Mirror returned the hug as tightly as he could, lingering for a long moment. "I'm fine." He let go, catching Dumbledore's eye, before turning away in disgust.

Harry wondered what Mirror Harry's relationship with Dumbledore was like at this stage, because he felt a wave of his Mirror's hate.

"Good to see you, Son…" James clapped the boy on his back, and then whispered into his ear, "Was it an exciting mission?" The boy clenched his jaw, nodding. "We've got lots to talk about. You should hear about the raids we've done and the families we've saved from Voldemort's attacks!"

"How many Death Eaters did you catch?" the Mirror asked, eyeing the Order members around the room.

"Fifty in the last month and ninety dead," Professor Flitwick answered.

"And a fair few ran with their tails between their legs." Sirius winked.

"We've finally located Lestrange's fortress too," James added. "We'll be paying them a visit soon."

The Mirror cocked up his eyebrows. "Burn it to the ground, Dad."

His father laughed. "We'll do our best."

The Order members shook Harry's hand before leaving, until the last people remaining were his Mirror, his parents and Dumbledore.

Lily touched his face, pulling away his long hair. "You need to eat, you're way too thin and pale, sweetheart, and you badly need a wash. Are you hurt?"

"I'm fine thanks … I just need rest." He gently pulled away. "Is everyone sleeping—?"

"Harry, Jessica's missed you so much! She's been awfully quiet since she got lost in the woods and you leaving straight after. She has nightmares about werewolves and creatures eating her, and you being lost forever."

"I'll cheer the _Newt_ up again," he said.

Lily smiled, "I'm sure you will. I think Charlie's still awake, reading as usual."

"Charlie will be thrilled that you're home for his birthday now," James said.

Harry realised that this memory had only happened a few days before Charlie's death.

The Mirror's eyes widened. "I totally forgot!"

"You _will_ be home for yours, won't you?"

He scratched the back of his head, thinking. "I don't know, Dad—"

"Come on, Harry! You're the first Potter in a generation to turn seventeen!"

Lily laughed, squeezing her son's shoulders. "Of course you're staying for your birthday! Albus wouldn't be so cruel to send you off again too soon." She kissed his cheek again, but he didn't seem happy.

Meanwhile, in silence, Dumbledore folded his arms.

"…My little boy, going to be a fully fledged wizard now…"

The Mirror insisted that he needed to have a shower and left the kitchen. Dumbledore followed him to the staircase with a dreadful limp. He was holding an ornate white cane with the head of a phoenix.

"Wait, Harry. May I have a word with you?"

Without turning to face the old headmaster, the Mirror said, "no."

"Please… you've cut off all contact with me since Hogwarts closed. I need to know what's happening."

The boy pointed a finger into Dumbledore's face. "You've got no idea, do you?" he scoffed. "You've lost your right to know anything!"

"Harry—"

"You never cared about me. You only cared for what I could do for you." He was whispering hurryingly so that his parents couldn't hear. He was almost nose to nose with Dumbledore, and the old wizard didn't dare to blink.

"I have always cared for you _._ I still do."

"Don't speak to me again. If you want me to defeat the Dark Lord then stay out of my life!"

" _The Dark Lord?"_ Dumbledore whispered. "Harry, say his name..."

Harry felt the hate. His Mirror clenched and unclenched his fists. "… _Voldemort!"_

Dumbledore didn't seem wholly satisfied with his answer. "This mission you've been on was never one I knew about and endorsed. You lied to your family and to me. You've been terrorising Muggles and torturing Muggle-borns. You've killed people!"

He laughed coldly. "I haven't hurt innocents for months now."

"But you have… You raided Wizarding towns and burnt down a section of Diagon Alley. Harry you are high in the ranks commanding Voldemort's followers. _Very_ high up. You've disguised yourself well, I must say. No one in the Order suspects what you have done except I."

"Just you—?"

"What have you become?"

"I did everything you wanted. After what you did, do you still expect me to be your perfect little puppet, all good and pure?"

"What have _I_ done?" Dumbledore asked calmly.

"Too much... Sometimes I wonder if anyone in the Order knows what sort of a person you truly are."

"In what way?"

There was a tremor in the Mirror's face. "You think you're a great honourable wizard, but you're not. You're a coward. You use us—used _me_." He pointed a finger at his chest.

"I gave you a choice, Harry."

"I had no choice!" he spat. "You brought me up to kill Voldemort!"

"That's correct. You knew what your part was... then what happened? What changed you? The last time we spoke was when the Chamber had opened. You pleaded your innocence to me whilst I was in my sick bed. Don't blame me for the corruption of your Mage power."

" _Mage?"_ The Mirror was incensed. "The power which _you_ had insisted I develop? You knew what it could do to me under the influence of... of..." He pursed his lips in fury. "I'm just collateral damage to you."

"No—"

"You really don't remember what you did do me?"

"Harry, I don't." Dumbledore sighed, taking a step back from the boy. "I'm still recovering from my injuries, if you haven't already noticed." He lifted his cane in response. "I have holes in my memories."

"Let me know when it's returned and only then we can have a proper chat. Be ready..." he hissed. "I'd love to fight you."

Dumbledore took another step back. "Harry, think through your actions thoroughly. I'm watching you. You are barred from all Order meetings, henceforth."

"I don't care about your stupid Order. You're all dead!"

A mirror appeared on the cupboard beneath the stairs as his Mirror rushed up them. Harry bolted through and found himself in a dark house.

He felt the hair on his neck stand on end. So he whirled around, and saw twenty silent Death Eaters, wearing their cloaks and silver masks.

His breath caught in his throat as he moved between them. The leader pointed upstairs and held up seven fingers. Seven Death Eaters vanished. Then he circled his finger above his head. Death Eaters rushed into different rooms and five were stationed outside.

Suddenly the screams pierced through the rooms of the house. Spells flashed, forcing Harry to screw his eyes shut. Wizards were shouting, pleading, and children were terrified.

"Round them up into the living room!" the leader yelled.

A shorter Death Eater approached Harry's side and he could feel the wizard's exhilaration and power. He was appalled, knowing that this wizard was his Mirror.

Harry followed him into the kitchen, and in the dark, Harry jolted when something huge and hairy slammed Mirror Harry against the fridge. The force of the attack dented the fridge and made the boy drop his wand.

As the chaos continued around them and the innocent family were forced downstairs. Mirror Harry struggled to free himself. Harry felt his fear, but strangely also his curiosity and invincibility against the half-being.

"Let go of me, Greyback!"

The werewolf growled. With a yellow clawed finger he flicked the Mirror's mask off and eyed the boy's throat with hunger. "Your father owes me, Potter." Greyback sniffed the Mirror's neck, forcing his glasses off his nose. "His scent—strangely—like venison. I'll never forget him. I dream of biting... tasting... _devouring_ him— _you_!"

The fifteen year old stopped struggling and his terror turned into a malicious smile. "You better forget. The Dark Lord won't be happy if you turn me. I'm a Death Eater."

The werewolf jabbed his wand under the boy's chin, his fangs now dangerously pressed on the soft flesh of the Mirror's left eye. "And I'm a Senior Death Eater, and one of the _Thirteen_. Our master would grant me any—"

The scene disappeared into a void of white. As he swirled around slowly, a hand curled around his neck. He couldn't breathe.

For a split second he thought it was Voldemort under that hooded cloak. But Voldemort was taller, his fingers longer, his skin white. No, it was his Mirror.

"You have no right to be in my head," the Mirror roared. "Get out!"

"Where—are—you?" Harry struggled for breath.

"Faring better than you." His grip tightened.

The Mirror looked healthier. His robes were embroidered in gold, and the inside lining of his cloak was a deep red, like blood. His jeans impeccable and his sneakers clean. This didn't look like the Mirror being tortured the night before.

"You don't—have to do this."

"Get out, now!" The Mirror glared into his eyes.

" _Not Harry… Please not Harry"_ a woman screamed inside Harry's head. _"Stand aside you silly girl, stand aside now!"_

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" he yelled.

His Mirror yelped, letting go and clutched his hand in pain.

Harry woke with a start, fingernails scratching at his head. He could hear his Mirror screaming. "THAT'S PRIVATE!" Harry shouted back. He wanted to claw back his scalp and break open his skull and throw his Mirror out. "GET OUUUUUTTTT!"

The cell door banged open, and Atoners rushed in, pinning him down to the bed. Harry spat into their faces.

"STOP THIS, POTTER! STOP MAKING A _FUCKING_ RACKET!" Willis withdrew a club from his belt, smacking Harry's head with it.

Blissful silence came.

* * *

Godric's Hollow was eerily quiet. The smoke and haze lingered, and the rubble littered the ground where buildings had stood. Only a few buildings remained undamaged: the little church, the post office, Bathilda Bagshot's house and Lily's old residence, and a couple of Muggle houses and their cottage which was still protected by its Fidelius Charm.

She held back tears, as she stood in the middle of the High St. She breathed in deeply, inhaling ashes, dust and the smell of battle and death. Nothing stirred except for a light breeze and hundreds of gold Grindelwald calling cards swirling about like leaves in the autumn. Death Eaters, Muggles, wizards, Order members, Aurors, and Grindelwald supporters had died. After seven days, the body count had dwindled. Only a couple were found barely living.

Yet there was no sign of James Potter dead or alive. Lily hoped today would be the day they found her husband. Alive, she prayed.

She saw Remus wave his wand, shifting a block of stone and a wooden archway. He peered beneath it.

Around them, wizards were clearing up the damage and some rebuilding had begun. The Muggle army, and MI5 officials had their areas cordoned off with their usual bio-hazard gear and signs warning people not to enter the roped off areas.

Tractors had piled debris high onto trucks to be driven away. Wizards helped in the rebuild as well, swishing their wands, muttering incantations. The Muggle Authorities seemed unfazed by the blatant displays of magic around them. The Muggle government and the Ministry of Magic worked together in scenes like these. It was the only time they were allowed to do so.

"Sir," Lily walked over to a Muggle official placing a sheet over a corpse. "Have you seen this man?" Lily gave him a picture of James smiling, winking and waving serenely.

He shook his head. "Sorry…"

Disheartened, Lily returned to Remus. "Anything yet?" she asked as she pulled a door over.

"We've searched everywhere twice. There are no bodies left. James isn't here."

He stumbled across to another section of the debris. Kingsley was shouting something from the other side of the street, where once the local and rowdy pub was.

Lily pursed her lips. "Everywhere? Looks like Kingsley found another body."

"It's a dead Grindelwald supporter," Kingsley announced to the little group of Order members as they approached him.

He tore off the bloodied golden mask. The wizard was a familiar face. They had known a lot of the people wearing those masks. Disillusioned with Voldemort, the Ministry and the seemingly lax activity of the Order of the Phoenix, they had joined Grindelwald instead.

"Stan Shunpike," Kingsley spoke, throwing the mask away like he was holding a Frisbee.

"Stupid boy…" Remus sighed. He took a moment to close the boy's eyelids with a little magic.

Lily crossed her arms, impatient to start looking for James again. Remus, like her, had barely slept for days, determined to find him. They had discovered Sirius's body the day after the battle. However, James and Sirius did everything together. They fought and defended each other, so it was unusual that James wasn't near Sirius, dead or injured, when they had found the body.

"Is it even possible James had been taken?" she wildly thought. She watched two wizards cart Stan Shunpike's body to the middle of a clearing. Days before that clearing had been filled with a hundred corpses.

Kingsley blinked, twirling his goatee. "I've spoken with the survivors, no one saw him, or saw anyone being abducted."

"But it's possible," Remus added.

"Lily, I don't want you to get your hopes up." Kingsley held her hand, squeezing gently.

"I know…"

"James was–is my friend too."

Two days before, they had buried Sirius's body, not in Godric's Hollow cemetery, but right next to Charlie.

" _Mummy, why did he die?" Jessica asked. The small group of wizards and witches and a gaggle of Sirius's most trusted ex girlfriends dispersed at the end of the ceremony._

_She held her daughter tightly. "Because Sirius was a brave man... He fought to protect us."_

" _Is Sirius going to see Charlie?"_

_Lily burst into tears. She hoped Sirius would give Charlie the biggest hug he ever had in his life. "Yes, love."_

_Michael and Christopher placed a flower on Sirius's fresh grave. But Jessica kept onto hers._

_"Sweetheart, you can put the flower on the grave now," Lily coaxed, gently rubbing her daughter's shoulders. There was a strand of the girl's black hair on her cloak. She picked it up and placed it in a tissue, before pocketing it._

_The little girl blinked, shaking her head. "No… I'm saving this flower for Daddy to put on Sirius's grave…"_

Shaking her head of the fresh memory, Lily walked away from her friends. An old Muggle man was sifting through his burnt belongings. A mother was crying outside the church which had become a makeshift mortuary.

It was down a smaller street, where Lily felt like she was being watched. She strolled into an alleyway, narrowed by debris, but with a clear exit, a location where she could dodge spells.

"Lily…"

She whipped around, holding her wand right into the stalker's face. "Why are you here? Have you come to gloat that James is gone?"

Severus backed a step away, hiding in the darkness, until he was in shadows. "That wasn't my intention. I need to speak with you." There was urgency in his voice.

"I haven't got time for games. I need to find my husband." She snapped. "We haven't seen each other for ten years—all of a sudden you need to see me in person?"

"I need to tell you—"

"Why couldn't you have protected Harry from everything?" In every letter she had sent, Severus had never responded to this question.

"Just listen to me!" he snarled. "The Dark Lord wants Jessica."

Her wand hand shook, she suddenly felt faint. The words struggled to free from her lips. "Wha-what?"

"He wants me to bring her to him."

"Don—don't you dare!"

He raised his hands, unarmed. "I don't know what to do."

"My family's been through enough already. You will leave my little girl out of this!" Panic welled within her. She couldn't believe what she was hearing.

"I know that. That's why I've come to you. I haven't told Albus yet."

"Do you think I'm just going to her hand her over? Why the hell does he want her?"

"You're his enemy. His victory is to have every Potter under his control or dead."

"No, you keep away from my family."

"He's been summoning me every few days wondering why I haven't brought her in. I've held off as long as I can. He will question my loyalty and kill me if I betray him."

Lily trembled. He cannot do this to her, to her family. But she did not want him to die either.

She knew it was time. It was the right time him a secret which she had kept.

"Severus, I am going to tell you something very important… something which I have kept from you and James."

She fumbled for a grip on the damaged wall, lowering herself down to the ground. His robes flew about him as he helped her, hands holding her upper arms firmly.

Worry was etched into his face. "What is it?" He touched her hands. He felt so warm.

Lily trembled, turning her face away. Her tongue felt like lead. "It's about Jessica."

"Yes, tell me."

She took a deep breath. "Jes-Jessica is your daughter."

Severus let go abruptly, as though he had received an electric shock from her. "Impossible!"

"She is."

"The girl—she can't be—!"

"I know it's hard—"

"YOU'RE LYING!"

Lily calmed down, watching the frantic, panicked expression on his sallow face. "She's yours. She looks like me, thank God! Otherwise James would've suspected… she has—had my eyes. I test her hair; she's definitely not James's. She's yours."

Severus sat back, far away from her. He covered his face with his hands and fell quiet.

"Say something!"

"I—I don't understand. How could this happen?"

She rolled her eyes, impatient. "You know how it happened!"

"Yes, but…"

"Ten years is a long time. James doesn't know about Jessica. He doesn't know I had one night with you. I wanted revenge for James having that affair."

"I knew you used me," Severus seethed.

"Oh come on, like you really cared," Lily spat. "As long as you had me, you didn't care why I had come to you, crying and miserable, even though I never felt anything for you. I came to you for support and things just happened..."

"I do now... I've changed." He shook his head.

"Hopefully for the better—"

"Don't mock me!" he growled. "I don't want your child to be mine."

There was anguish and terror in his voice. Lily didn't know whether she should be angry or pity him.

"Why? You always wanted me to love you. And for a brief moment you had me. Jessica's that result," she replied bitterly.

"I—I don't want her to be like me."

Lily's breath caught in her throat and her anger dissipated. "She's not. She's been injured and damaged, but she's a beautiful child." How Lily wished Jessica was whole and happy again.

"You say you've tested her parentage. Show me this evidence," he commanded.

Lily pulled out a small metal box. "I test her everyday…" she whispered. "Every morning, after I brush her hair I take a strand and check it in secret." She plucked a long black hair and held it in front of their eyes.

Severus looked surprised. "Why do you do test her every day? Twice would've sufficed."

She shrugged. "To be sure I guess… I'm the one who's had to live with this secret for ten years. Every day I hope the spell says James is her father and not you."

He narrowed his eyes. "Do it."

With a heavy heart, Lily touched the hair with the tip of her wand. " _Parenta Sanguintus."_ A blue flame engulfed the strand. The cinders circled and formed a piece of parchment, hovering in the air. Trembling, Lily took it and read the contents.

_Lily Potter_

_and_

_Severus Snape_

She shoved it into Severus's hand.

He looked at it; in fact he stared at it for several moments in silence. There was a deep furrow on his brow.

"Do you believe me now?" Lily asked.

Severus rubbed the parchment in his fingers, testing its strength.

"Say something," she urged.

"Would you mind if I repeated the spell myself?"

She handed him another strand of Jessica's hair and he repeated the process. He looked down at the parchment. "Lily, I want you to tell me what it says."

She obliged. " _Lily Potter and Severus Snape._ You still don't believe it do you?"

"It says…" He fell silent for a few moments. "Yes... yes, Jessica is mine."

Relieved that she had finally gotten through to him, she said, "Do you think Voldemort knows?"

He still looked at her with concern. "I don't think so. He wants her to finish off what your son was meant to do…"

"And what is that?" She crawled to his side as fear washed over her skin.

"I don't know. Every Death Eater has a mission or two. I have mine, and I've just told you what one of them is."

"Had it been Lucius Malfoy's mission to abduct James and me, using Octavia?"

He shook his head. "Bellatrix wants to punish me for helping your son. She asked Lucius to do the dirty work for her."

"Thank you for helping us at St Mungo's."

"I didn't help you."

"But—?"

"That was Emily Miles."

Lily gasped. "How do you—?"

"Don't tell the Order. The less they know, the safer she is. But she's been watching her mother for awhile."

She nodded. "Severus, please help me protect Jessica. Help me find James, and I will do everything to protect you."

"I can protect myself." Severus smiled sadly. "Lily…" He took her hand into his and looked into her face. There was worry in his dark eyes. "Tell me, how are you feeling?"


	16. The Unexpected Prisoner

**The Unexpected Prisoner**

Harry woke with his head thickly bandaged and throbbing. The moment he sat up the room started spinning.

"Careful, Potter." Cotter lowered him back into bed.

"What—what happened?"

She handed him a glass of clean water. It had been a long time since he drank pure cold water and it tasted wonderful.

"You've suffered a fractured skull, but it's all mended now. I've treated your other wounds. You've been in the trapdoor for a day."

Yet, he couldn't remember a thing. "Why?"

"You caused such a scene—screaming and attacking the Atoners. They had to discipline you. I got you out of there. I didn't think you were going to pull through. We're not going to have a repeat of Mr Fletcher's incident—and don't say I've never helped you."

"Thanks," he said, handing her the empty glass.

He stared at the ceiling, feeling his sore head while, his back was on fire again. Then he felt the freshly laundered tunic against his cleaned body. His hair, sprouting like some absurd plant from top of the bandage, had been washed too.

"Take it easy when you move. The more the whip is used, the slower the healing." She cleared her throat. "What happened to you?"

"I had a vivid nightmare."

"And that was making you want to claw out your brain?"

He noticed the scratches on the sides of his face. His ears were sore too, like he had tried to rip them off. "You can say that."

"I've seen you do some crazy things in here, but you've never done that. It was like you were tying to rip something out—"

"What other crazy things have I done in this hellhole?"

"Writing messages in blood, for one..." She pointed to the cell walls around them. "Yelling and swearing in the middle of the night for hours. Attacking fellow inmates who you thought had betrayed You-Know-Who. The Atoners don't care if you attack the other prisoners—they find that entertaining."

"I was probably bored—"

"During exercise, you'd sit down and laugh—ending up in the trapdoor." She continued staring. "Rest up, in a couple of hours you'll have to exercise."

"Please don't go."

She sighed. "I need to check on a prisoner who's become ill—"

"You don't belong in here…" he whispered.

"Thank you, but after what I've done to the prisoners, I do." She rose, turning away. "Despite what you think, Potter, some Atoners don't enjoy what they do. They find it repulsive. We're just cowards to speak out against it."

When she left, Harry felt something in the pocket of his tunic. It was a note.

_I am a member of the Order._

_Cotter_

* * *

During exercise that morning, Yaxley led the circle. As usual, little notes of paper were exchanged secretly amongst the prisoners.

Harry was feeling better as he shuffled along. No one spoke as the Atoners occasionally joked and made lewd remarks at some of the inmates.

Twenty minutes in, Harry noticed for the first time that Cotter was one of the Atoners patrolling the Black Square. She seemed to be keeping an eye on a prisoner who was swaying and stumbling. He was looking very unwell.

The prisoner finally faltered and fainted right into the witch in front. The wizard behind him, Rookwood, tried to pull him off the witch.

"Get him into the trapdoor!" Lurchman snapped.

"NO YOU WILL NOT!" Cotter yelled. "HE'S TOO ILL. I TOLD YOU NOT TO TAKE HIM OUT OF HIS CELL!"

Harry had never seen her so angry.

"FINE!" Lurchman roared back. "Return him to his cell."

The prisoner was led away to cell 6 by Caster and another Atoner named Gerald McMullen. Cotter followed right behind.

"Exercise's over," Willis shouted from behind the desk. He was writing letters and inking and stamping them with a huge 'A'.

Harry rushed into Number 13, Yaxley to 12, the witch who had collapsed under the sick prisoner ran into Number 5, while Rookwood went into 7. Harry's door slammed shut, but he peered through the slat interested to see what would happen.

Minutes later, Cotter came out, wiping her hands clean. She was whispering to Willis, who seemed concerned.

"Incinerate the body, quickly," Harry heard him say.

Hours ticked by, Harry helped himself to some chocolate and continued to peer out. He moved away from the door, petrified, when he saw Brodes, Meryn and Caster walking around the cells.

They stopped in front of Harry's.

Harry's heart was racing. He looked over to the bed. The stool leg was almost sharpened.

"Come on Brodes, we're sick of Potter," Meryn drawled. "Let's fuck a witch."

Seconds wore on. Harry was surprised when Brodes never opened the cell door. Harry bravely looked out of the slat and saw Meryn opening cell Number 5. Brodes strode in first as he usually did.

It was quiet for a few minutes and then...

"COTTER!" Brodes ran out, yelling. He was covered in bloodied sick.

Harry sat up straighter, drinking in this new development and his heart was racing.

"COTTEEEEEEEEEEERRRR!"

"What's wrong?" Agnes Cotter rushed into the Black Square.

Brodes pointed towards Cell Number 5, he was kneeling on the floor ripping off his Atoner robe, wiping away flecks of blood from his scarred face. "That bitch is dying! She vomited blood on me!"

Cotter entered the cell, and then came out moments later, covering her face with her robes. By now a large group of Atoners had gathered around, although keeping a healthy distance from Brodes.

"She's displaying the same symptoms as the other. Bloodied vomit, black lips and tongue, enlarged lymph nodes, sepsis and swollen liver. She won't survive."

"—Speak English!" yelled Brodes. "What did they have?"

"I don't know, but it's contagious and spreading fast."

Lurchman opened Cell Number 7. "Prisoner's sick."

The Atoners made a wide clearing around Brodes, whispering urgently.

"Brodes, Meryn, Caster, McMullen, you're all in quarantine, report back to your quarters and stay there. The prisoners will stay in their cells until, whatever this disease is, is gone," Willis ordered. "Cotter, will you be all right?" he asked. She nodded.

Harry smiled in victory, his face stretched into the biggest grin he could muster. He wanted to congratulate the witch for spraying her disease onto Brodes.

Willis spoke to the prisoners. "If anyone displays signs of sickness, inform us immediately."

The witch died hours later and the prisoner in 7 was very ill. All the occupants of the Black Square were now in quarantine. Harry hoped that Brodes, and his cronies, would die a most horrible death.

The door to his cell scraped open and Cotter came in. "Are you okay?"

Harry nodded. "Are you? Are you going to get sick?"

"No… I always have protective spells on me."

"Will Brodes die?"

"Everyone wishes it so. He's horrible bully to the Atoners."

"Is anyone else sick?"

"Lovegood, but luckily for him, his daughter brought him some medicinal herbs. He's been storing them in secret. He seems stable. I took the herbs to see what I can do for the others."

"Whatever cure you make, don't give it to Brodes," Harry slyly replied. "Why did Lovegood end up here?"

"Why else? He wrote propaganda against the Ministry in the Quibbler. He's always been a bit bizarre."

"Is Luna still alive since she visited?"

"She's living in France with a distant relative."

If Luna saw him, she'd believe him straight away that he was from a different universe. He actually longed to have a good hearted conversation with her. Despite his friendship with Ron and Hermione and their love for him, Luna seemed to be the one who could see straight through Harry and understand what he was on about when it really mattered.

* * *

For a few days the prisoners weren't allowed out of their cells. Two more prisoners had come down with the illness while another died. Harry soon learnt that McMullen and Caster died and hoped Brodes would too. To Harry's delight, Cotter kept reporting that Brodes was so ill, he was crying out for his mother.

With no proper light, the stuffy air and the claustrophobic feeling of their cells meant that some prisoners had resorted to screaming all day and night, begging to be let out.

Nightmares plagued him. Sometimes he fell, or Dung tormented him, or he'd see Pettigrew's children dead. Other times, he'd feel the hot, sweet smelling breath on the back of his neck, and he'd waken, thinking Brodes was there with him.

Rubbing his eyes, Harry thought that contacting his Mirror would be better than suffering the torment of a dark cell and the screams outside of it. He ate half a biscuit and lay down. Instantly, he started to dream.

Again the mirror spanned the entire cell wall. And again Harry stepped through, although with a lot more caution this time.

Surprisingly, he entered a cell resembling the same one he had stepped out of. He saw with mild trepidation that his Mirror was sitting on the bed, wearing dark robes.

"I told you not to enter my mind," the Mirror growled.

"I want to know what's going on with you."

"Dumbledore asked you to, didn't he? Why do you trust him after everything he's done to you?"

"And done to you?"

"Shut up and leave!" He stood to full height, his hands clenched into fists.

"I will not!" Harry fired back. "I'm staying here until I get some answers. If you won't allow me to see who you really are, then at least tell me." He sat down on the bed. "Why did you switch sides?"

The Mirror laughed. "You think I'm just going to tell you my darkest secrets because you asked me to?" He held out his hands for Harry to see. "Look what you did to my hands, what sort of power was that? I just saw what the Dark Lord did to your mother as a baby and you… you cursed me!"

Harry saw the burns. They were blistered, red and angry looking. "That isn't a curse… that's a remnant of the protection my mother gave me before she died. You can't touch me."

Harry thought that the protection had ended when he came of age. Perhaps not... Maybe when his Mirror had seen the memory, Lily—his Mirror mother had unknowingly reactivated the protection. What did this all mean? Quirrell too had suffered the same injuries.

"Protection…?" Mirror Harry paced the cell.

"Love."

He laughed out loud. "That is the most ridiculous thing I've heard! _Love_ is not a power!"

"You can think whatever you want," Harry replied. "It's something I'm sure you used to experience."

Glaring back he said, "perhaps… but that was a long time ago."

"Your sister loves you. You seem protective of her. What do you affectionately call her? _Newt_ …"

"Shut up!"

"Dumbledore cares about you—"

"FUCK DUMBLEDORE!" The Mirror was about to do something violent, but recoiled. "He doesn't…"

Harry was going to do something risky. He felt that if he _willingly_ allowed his Mirror to see his memories without harm, then perhaps it would allow him to remember and feel things he had forgotten.

"You're not my enemy. How can you really be when we're the same? You are me and I am you, right?" Harry said. "I just want to get out, and go back home. I don't want to be part of your world."

"But Dumbledore's made sure that you're a part of it all."

"Look, if you want, you can enter my mind… I don't care… you won't get hurt, I promise."

The Mirror looked at him suspiciously, but Harry could see he was curious.

"All right…. You'll need to go back to your side of the mirror. I didn't enter your mind the right way last time, which is why it caused you and I so much pain... That's why I don't think it was _loooovvvvveee_ that injured me," he mocked.

Harry scowled and went back into his own mind. He watched the mirror and it began to ripple. He saw the reflection of Mirror Harry staring back at him.

"Whatever you soon feel, don't be alarmed."

Harry was a bit worried now. Mirror Harry walked through the mirror and disappeared into nothingness.

He woke up. "What the hell!" A shivery feeling rippled across his body and his hair stood on end.

Harry clutched his head, sensing a presence in his mind, something that did not belong there. Suddenly feeling uneasy, dread filled him. Goosepimples erupted, and there was a weird tickling sensation spreading all over his skin as his muscles twitched. He needed to expel whatever it was residing in his body. He turned over, retched, and fell out of bed.

Shivering, he curled himself into a ball, and heard distant screams. But the screams weren't coming from the prisoners; it was all in his head. It was his mother. Then random memories flashed across his eyes.

_His mother dead..._ _Dumbledore falling… Malfoy hit with the Sectumsempra Curse… Cedric dead… Voldemort laughing, humiliating Harry… Sirius gone… The prophecy… the Horcruxes… Ron poisoned… Hermione petrified…The Dursleys… Ginny dying, her soul seeping out into Tom Riddle… Ron and Harry fighting in the tent… the cupboard under the stairs… "DON'T CALL ME COWARD!" … He was a baby, crying, and Aunt Petunia yelled at him to stop…_

It had all bubbled to the surface. Each new memory was occurring faster than the last. He squeezed his eyes shut. "No. Please, look at anything but those."

And then…

… _Harry was looking at his parents photograph. He saw their graves in Godric's Hollow… Sirius clapping Harry's back, laughing and ruffling his hair. The Weasleys… Quidditch… Hermione putting Harry's bloodied hand into a bowl of murtlap… The DA defying Umbridge… Mrs Weasley hugging him tightly…_

_Ginny kissing Harry…_

As suddenly as it had begun, it ended. Harry sat up. The feelings were gone and he could breathe normally again. No wonder Mirror Harry wanted him out of his head the first time.

He trembled as he ate the rest of the biscuit. Harry saw his reviled reflection and walked through the mirror, thinking he was going to have a _nice_ conversation with his Mirror, but discovered that he was in fact, in another memory.

There were seven children playing in the garden with sticks. Their ages varied from five to ten. There was his little Mirror with Charlie, and Harry smiled when he saw gangly Ron Weasley jumping over logs and benches, and dodging fake spells with Ginny on toe. Meanwhile, Fred and George were trying to catch frog spawn in a pond as Sirius pointed out where the biggest ones were. The kids seemed so tiny… so innocent.

"RAAAAAAWRRR!" Charlie pounced onto Ron's shoulders.

"Expelliarmus," Ron shouted. " _Crucio—"_

_"Avada Kedavra,"_ the Mirror yelled, pointing the harmless stick at Charlie.

"STOP THIS NOW!" Lily bellowed, as Charlie was thrown off Ron's shoulders. The children looked up, scared. "WHAT ON EARTH ARE YOU PLAYING?"

She rounded on her elder son, angry, and yanked the stick out of his hand, then did the same to Ron and Charlie. "Harry, how do you know that spell? Answer me!"

The little boy looked up, gob smacked. Sirius slowly approached Lily, looking as though he wasn't sure what to say. "Lily, it was just a game."

Then Fred squeaked, "Yeah, Death Eaters and Aurors—"

"And Conditioned," finished George.

"Do you know what those spell are?" Lily yelled.

The children gulped.

"Answer me, Harry."

"It's used to kill people, I think—"

"Exactly! Ron—?"

"To hurt people."

"How did you hear about these spells?"

"Jesus Christ, Lily, let the kids be!" Sirius hissed. "It was a game."

"I never, ever want them playing it again," Lily said, jabbing her finger into Sirius's chest.

"You can't protect them from the war. It's impossible. They will pick up on things they've heard and seen. It's all around us," Sirius replied. "They know, because if we teach them to hide or run away from Death Eaters, and tell them to lie to the big, _bad_ Aurors, then they have every right play about it too."

A mirror materialised on a tree trunk, Harry ventured through it and found himself at Hogwarts, in a bustling corridor full of students, and saw his Mirror. He quickly caught up with the boy. Judging by the Mirror's height and the Potions text he carried, this was fifth year. He wore glasses and his hair was short and untidy. Though, unlike the previous memories, he seemed so much happier, more like Harry had been before Cedric died and Voldemort reborn.

Then Harry jolted when he noticed Marvolo Gaunt's ring on his Mirror's finger.

"Hey bro. Hey Luna," Mirror Harry waved to a raven-haired, chubby Gryffindor third year, who Harry recognised was Charlie. The boy waved back with a huge grin on his face. Luna looked wistfully his way and smiled.

"Oi!" Charlie blurted, "don't forget tea at Hagrid's today."

"I won't—I wonder what delightful creatures he has for you to see."

"Oh _haha_ … you'd be glad to know I've recovered well from last week's attack."

Mirror Harry laughed. "Yeah, back to school and you've already missed a week of class. Mum isn't impressed!"

He looked at his watch and started to jog, rushing down towards the dungeons where Potions was usually held.

With a small pang of longing, Harry saw Mirror Ron and Hermione up ahead, chatting rather amiably about some essay they were writing for Transfiguration.

Ron rolled his eyes. "All right, Hermione, shut your gob, I don't want to hear anymore about this stupid law on whatsit gravity—or whatever."

Hermione clucked impatiently. "Ron, this is a very important year for fifth years, our OWLS are just around the corner and every bit of inform—"

"Hermione, we've just started the year! Harry, hurry up, mate. Do you really, _really_ want a months worth of detentions with Snape?"

There was a scowl on his Mirror's face and he quickened his pace… but not quickly enough.

"What—?"

As Ron and Hermione rounded a corner, someone had grabbed him by the neck of his robes and pulled him sideways into a room.

Harry followed before the door shut and watched the scene unfold with wide eyes. It was a disused storeroom filled with broken bottles, cauldrons and cobwebbed old broomsticks.

Mirror Harry tried straightening his robes, and the look on his face suggested nothing but loathing. Still holding the Mirror's robes, Draco Malfoy was seething.

It seemed to Harry, Malfoy looked like he was about to do something he didn't want to do. His blonde hair was long and in disarray around his pointed face. He had his wand pointed into his Mirror's face, but the Mirror wasn't perturbed.

"Are you trying to abduct me?" Mirror Harry asked calmly. "Pretty lame attempt… and you're on your own too?"

"Shut up, and just listen to me!" Malfoy clipped, his cold, grey eyes piercing.

The Mirror eyebrows skyrocketed into space. He spread out his hands in a gesture of submission. "I'm listening."

"I have a message for you from the Dark Lord. He invites you to join him and become a member of his elite. You will bask in his glory and enjoy generous rewards—his exact words."

A deep furrow replaced the raised eyebrows now. The Mirror was bewildered and confused. Harry felt his emotions.

"Me?" he scoffed, vigilant and highly suspicious now. He yanked the rest of his robes away from the Slytherin's grasp. "Malfoy, you can march straight back to your master and tell him he can shove the message right up—"

"You think it's going to be that easy, now, do you? You're so _fucking_ naive!" Malfoy hissed. "I will tell him—in a nice way—you refused. Then he'll hunt you and your family down. We've been watching you for awhile… Why do you meet with Dumbledore every few days in his office? Does he give you secret lessons? Or maybe he just likes touching you down there—"

The Mirror shoved the boy against the shelf, knocking bottles and supplies to the floor. There was a long moment of silence and they never took their eyes off the one another.

"Are you done, Malfoy?" the Mirror icily asked. "I'm late for Potions and you're late for Charms."

"You're dead!" Malfoy pocketed his wand and left.

Mirror Harry didn't look away from the spot Malfoy was a moment before. Then he took a deep breath and rushed out. The Mirror didn't go to Potions. As Harry suspected and would've done, he went in the opposite direction, straight to the headmaster's office.

"Pumpkin Pips," he whispered to the boar statues on either side of the staircase.

"Oh very well, then," one exclaimed, allowing him to pass.

He climbed the stairs three at a time, before knocking rapidly on the door.

"Come in."

The headmaster seemed intrigued to see the boy standing there, panting with a stitch to his side. "Harry, come, sit, I am sure there is a spectacular reason why you are skiving Potions to see me."

Dumbledore's moustache quivered as he sat back down at his desk. Fawkes sat on the perch near the window, looking rather majestic.

"Malfoy approached me. Voldemort sent me a message to join the Death Eaters."

The amused persona displayed on Dumbledore's face was quickly replaced with something darker and worrisome. "What was your reply?"

"I said Voldemort can shove the message right—"

"Harry! This is most serious," Dumbledore interrupted, placing his long fingers together. He looked gravely at him now. And Harry felt the warmth and light in the room turn cold.

"Sir, you need to interrogate Malfoy—He's just confirmed that he's a Death—"

"No." The headmaster took his glasses off and pinched the crook of his nose, thinking. "Go back to Draco Malfoy and tell him you except the offer."

Harry gasped by such an order and his Mirror was just as stunned.

"What?" he asked. He was gripping the sides of his high-backed wooden chair. Marvolo's ring glinted ominously on his finger. "You—you want me to become a Death Eater?"

Dumbledore peered at Harry without his half-moon glasses. "You are ready to face him. He won't kill you. Your Mage ability is formidable enough… Though, you have a long way to go before you can _truly_ kill him. You have another four Horcruxes to destroy; it has been difficult so far dodging the spies when you leave secretly from my office to discover a Horcrux. But it will be worse from now on if you refuse..."

"But sir—"

"Remember the prophecy? He had killed Neville, yes, however for all these years he has watched you from afar… Now it's time for him to watch you with an iron grip on your arm. If you refuse him now, Voldemort will want to kill you and your family the first chance that arises. Charlie and Michael will not be safe within Hogwarts anymore.

"But you can protect—"

"Do you understand the implications, Harry? The Conditioned will not be watching you and your brothers anymore. They will have the order to murder you all!"

"Yes, but we were always in danger—"

"You will be a _marked_ man once Draco reports to Voldemort. You won't be able to hunt down the remaining Horcruxes. They will place a Taboo on you, and they will know when you leave and enter the school. One mistake and Voldemort will know what you've been up to, and therefore move the remaining Horcruxes."

The boy was confused and terrified.

Dumbledore walked to over, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. It startled Mirror Harry out of his thoughts. "Go to Draco Malfoy, interrupt his class, and tell him you will accept the offer. Voldemort will want to meet with you straight away."

Mirror Harry nodded sombrely. "Yes sir…" He sounded so defeated. "What's going to happen to me?"

"You will be trained as a Death Eater under the guidance of a Mentor. I suspect he wants you to spy on me, as well as control you. Don't worry Harry, I will help you through it."

He shakily removed the ring from his finger, carefully placing it on Dumbledore's desk. They watched Mirror Harry retreat from the office.

He was about to open the office door when Dumbledore spoke. "Harry, I will be with you every step of the way… you will never be alone."

Mirror Harry frowned and it visibly showed the sadness and fear. "I know."

He closed the door and Harry saw that the back of the door had been replaced by a mirror.

Harry found himself back within his own mind and woke up in shock.

* * *

Nothing stirred in the Black Square the next day. Harry yawned as he surveyed the square.

He was about to eat another one of those peculiar biscuits, when he heard footsteps outside. Harry peered out and scuttled back to the corner of his cell, scared.

Umbridge, the Atoners and an Auror stopped outside his cell. They all had a shimmering white glow around their bodies; a charm to protect them from the disease. Then the door opened.

" _Ahem hem…"_ Umbridge croaked. She lifted a frilly pink handkerchief to her nose. "Good grief, it smells like something died in here! Hose him down before you bring him to me." Umbridge and the Aurors retreated from the Black Square.

Willis grabbed the scruff of his neck and pulled him into the square. Suddenly, freezing water was poured down on him. Harry yelled in shock. He scrambled around, but whichever way he went, the Atoners were jeering.

Willis chortled. "Take him to Umbridge."

"No—NO!" he spluttered as Lurchman pulled him upright, soaking wet and shivering.

Chains slithered around his wrists and ankles. He was pulled out of the square and dragged through corridors.

At the end of one, there was a large black door with a golden sign on it that read, _Interrogation Room 2_. Harry's breath caught in his throat.

Lurchman knocked and the door opened. Inside Umbridge and the two Aurors stood waiting expectantly. But with a little bit of relief, Harry also spotted Kingsley. He was very pale and not looking like his usual confident and reassuring self. Alarmed, it was then he understood why the friendly Auror looked as though he'd seen hell.

Harry heard something that sounded like heavy chains, and from the corner of his eye he saw a body suspended.

James Potter was standing on a high stool. His hands were chained together. A noose was tightly bound around his neck.

Harry gasped, as Lurchman pushed him in front of Umbridge.

Dripping wet and freezing, he asked, "what are you going to do with him?"

Umbridge simpered, "We would like some information from you, and in exchange, your father will survive."

"I don't know anything!"

"Don't be foolish, boy. Do you want your father to die?"

"No, but—"

"It's simple then…" she giggled. Umbridge stopped inches from him.

She peeled the wet tunic away from his shoulders, then, ripped it right off, so that he stood there naked and exposed. She walked away looking satisfied.

He wanted to attack her right then and there, but Kingsley must have sensed his murderous mood. He shook his head warning Harry not to retaliate.

"Is it true that You-Know-Who is weakening?' Umbridge asked, staring at Harry's body.

Harry eyed James Potter. The wizard looked defiant and ready. "I, er… I've heard those rumours, but I don't know… that's the truth."

Umbridge slowly walked over to the stool that was keeping James Potter alive. She touched the wood lovingly, checking for dust. "Again, I ask you, is your master weakening?"

"Er…Yes."

"Good..." Her toad-like face lit up. "How so?"

Harry was raking his brain for ideas. He used his recent experience in the Black Square and past memories in his own world. "He looks ill. He drinks potions every day…."

Umbridge circled James Potter, staring up at him. James could've easily kicked her in the face, Harry thought. _Do it, do it now…_

"Do you know where the Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix is?"

"No…"

"Ms Undersecretary, the boy doesn't know. We know the location has changed quite recently," Kingsley replied.

"Very well, then," Umbridge snapped. But then her facial expression darkened. "Why did Dumbledore visit you few days ago, Potter? What were you two talking about?"

"I—I wanted to speak with him—"

"About what?" Umbridge placed her hands on the stool.

"Er…" _THINK YOU IDIOT!_ "I…wanted to know how my family—"

Umbridge pushed the stool away from James Potter's feet. The chair clattered on the floor.

"NOOOOOOOOO!" Harry bellowed.

James potter dangled, legs flailing this way and that. His chains jingling like bells.

Harry rushed over to him, trying desperately to lift his legs up, to stop him from strangling under the noose. "WE JUST SPOKE ABOUT STUFF— LET HIM GO!"

James was turning blue. Harry wildly looked over to Kingsley for help, and even though he was staring in shock, he didn't do anything to help. Asking Kingsley directly would most certainly put him in danger.

"HELP! PLEASE, LET HIM GO!" It was no use; the weight of his father was pulling him down.

"What did you talk about—?"

"RELEASE HIM!"

"MS UNDERSECTARY!" Kingsley yelled. "James Potter is an asset to the Ministry. Kill him and you kill our only viable link to Grindelwald!"

Umbridge was livid. "FOR GOODNESS SAKES SHACKLEBOLT, CUT HIM LOOSE THEN!" Slapping her arms to her side, she left the Interrogation room.

The noose snapped and James crumbled to the floor, gasping for breath. Harry helped remove the rope.

Then James grabbed him roughly, pulling him close to his face. Harry could feel his father's spittle, and his hot ragged breath.

"I know who you are!" James whispered frantically. He grasped Harry's hands into his own, pulling them towards his heart. " _I know…"_

"Let go of the prisoner!" an Auror spat, pulling James up, but he did not let, and Harry didn't want him to.

A red streak of light hit James squarely in the chest and his grip loosened. He was then taken away.

Harry sat sprawled on the floor of the interrogation room. Kingsley and Lurchman were the only ones remaining. Both looked unsettled, but then Kingsley let out a long sigh of relief.


	17. The Cupboard Under the Stairs

**The Cupboard Under the Stairs**

Not one word, no communication from Severus so far. Lily regretted telling him about Jessica, but the pixies were out of the bag now. Still, since that day in Godric's Hollow there had been no acknowledgement, no questions... _nothing_.

However, telling him her secret was the least of her worries.

Lily watched Jessica like a hawk, never letting the girl out of her sight, even to search for James. Was she being paranoid, despite being safe at the Burrow—the new HQ for the Order? Still, the occasional spy got through their security.

_Idiot!_ Lily told her self, as she thought about Severus. She smacked her forehead against the shower wall as the scene played in her head again.

When Severus told her that it was his mission to take Jessica to Voldemort, she panicked.

_He will never want to meet her, will never have any interest in her… and let's face the facts, Lily; you'll never want him to! What was the whole point in telling him?_ To make sure he wouldn't betray her again.

_Could you imagine James finding out? Yes._ Lily just couldn't risk ever telling him. _For Merlin's sake, look at what happened when he saw Harry?_

Lily washed her teeth rather violently as she replayed the memory for the umpteenth time. She let out an angry growl and scowled at her own reflection.

"Oh dear, did you get up on the wrong side of the bed again?" the mirror purred. Lily threw a face towel at it and stormed out.

The smell of frying bacon and sausages wafting up to her little corner of the ramshackle house made her feel sick.

Most of the Weasleys, Potters and a few Order members were having breakfast. She wasn't hungry, so after dressing, she crossed the hall to visit her sister, being monitored by Octavia. Pomona Sprout was recovering in the bed next to her.

"Good morning Octavia, Professor Sprout—any progress with Petunia during the night?"

Lily asked the same question every morning and every day she'd always get the same answer back.

Not today.

Octavia looked as though she hadn't slept at all. "Morning dear, um… yes, major developments… I feel confident telling you now. "

"What is it?" Lily was excited.

"It was Pomona's suggestion that got me thinking…"

The professor smiled, then winced. "Professor Snape once preformed an incantation on our Hufflepuff Seeker, Cedric Diggory. He was constantly falling seriously ill. The charm showed what curses were repeatedly being placed on the student, because normal revealing charms and potions don't work as the magic is Dark, unless you knew what had been cast. I thought there was no harm trying it on Petunia."

"And?" Lily took her sister's pale, clammy hand into her own.

Octavia's expression darkened. "It's called the Aura Incantation. I spent the entire night looking for it, and once I mastered the charm, it revealed something."

Pomona walked over. "Severus said that most curses are only needed once for it to work. For others the effects are temporary, so as it ages, the potency lessens, particularly those that affect the body."

"So if it was an old curse, the charm would reveal an echo of it in a pale or white colour," Octavia continued. "If the patient was suffering from a curse which had been repeatedly put on them—as in Diggory's case—the curse will have a brighter, defined colour."

"Do it," breathed Lily.

Octavia took Petunia's hand and started to sing the incantation. A soft white mist surrounded Petunia, but it slowly gained colour. It turned purple, then darker and darker still. Intermingled with this, was another very pale blue coloured spell.

"There are two curses. The original being the blue one Harry placed, but the purple one?" Octavia's eyes were bright. "She's been asleep for a month now, and that purple one suggests that the curse had only been placed on her a day ago."

"Do you think an Order member is deliberately keeping my sister in this weird sleep?"

"I don't know, I'm just telling you my theories."

"But who would want to do that?" Lily gasped.

"We need a list of all the people who had visited this room in the past week," Professor Sprout interjected.

Lily counted. "Octavia, myself… Jessica, Molly, Arthur… Dumbledore, Minerva, Filius and Remus..." But Lily couldn't help feel the mistrust circling Octavia. After all, she'd set Death Eaters upon them.

The Healer guessed. "I know what you're thinking, but I have no reason to do it."

"But can you take the curses off?"

"I think I know what they are now, after researching them all night. The blue is Mage magic—it may be hard to remove—but curiously it's not Dark. The purple one's definitely a curse."

"Do it now, before everyone knows."

"Hold her for me," Octavia replied. "She may convulse. Are you ready?"

Lily nodded, gripping her sister's shoulders. Whoever did this to her wanted to keep Petunia quiet, but why?

Octavia removed the tape holding Petunia's eyes closed and they sprung open, wide and glassy. She muttered the words of the incantation under her breath as she circled her wand over Petunia's body. A soft golden glow enveloped her.

Forty minutes in, Lily noticed things that looked promising. There were tiny fluctuations of Petunia's pupils. A twitch of an eyelid, her breaths becoming more pronounced, her pulse getting stronger and then—

Petunia shot up in bed, inhaling the biggest breath she had ever taken in her life.

Octavia fell back, sweaty and exhausted, while Pomona almost toppled off the side of her bed.

"Petunia…Tu-Tuney?" Lily whispered.

Petunia blinked. "Wh-where am I?" Her voice was hoarse and dry.

"You're safe, darling, you're going to be all right," Lily said gently, caressing her face.

Petunia pushed her away. She was having none of her sister's affection. "Who are you and where am I?"

"This is Pomona Sprout, and I am Healer Octavia Miles. You're safely recovering at the Burrow."

"The-the Burrow? What a ridiculous name!" Then realisation dawned on her bony, face. "You-you're all like _her_!" she snapped.

Lily cringed. _Shame the curses didn't blow a nicer personality into her_. "Yes, they're like me—we're witches. You'll be pleased to know that we've taken the curses off you—"

"LILY!" Petunia yelped, gripping her arms. "There's two of them— _two_ Harrys!"

* * *

Harry went through the mirror. He hadn't slept since Umbridge had almost killed James Potter and his mind kept going over what his Mirror father said.

_"I know who you are..."_

Harry embraced those words like a tiny, glowing treasure.

On the other side of the mirror, he was in his cell and his Mirror stood with his eyes closed.

"Er… Harry?"

"They still haven't woken me up," he droned. "They fear I might kill them all…"

"Er, who are _they_?" Harry asked, a little nervous.

"I've been asleep for weeks…" Finally he opened his eyes. "That's why you can constantly enter my mind. This wouldn't happen if I was awake. I rarely sleep."

"Okay…" He wasn't sure what to say.

"Let's talk."

Harry gulped. There was a slight insane quality about his Mirror, and it was making him uneasy. "Good. Your dad's a prisoner and he knows who I am now. Kingsley said James had been taken by Grindelwald during the battle in Godric's Hollow. Then he got caught by the Ministry. They are going to use him to spy on Grindelwald."

"I don't care about my father."

"You do," Harry said _._ "Where are you? What happened to the Pettigrew children you took?"

"The brats are safe. As for me, I'm not even sure where I am. I suppose Grindelwald got the idea off Dumbledore to keep me asleep."

Harry was taken a back. "How the hell did he get you?"

The Mirror smirked. "He captured me on the way to Snape's. The bastard was waiting for me to turn up."

"So you _were_ going to hand those kids over to Bellatrix!" Harry was disgusted.

"No I wasn't. Bella was going to be at Snape's, and if I didn't at least show up, Snape would've been a dead man." The Mirror paced the cell, stopping only to examine the mirror of their connection. "My dad was with me for awhile… whispering me things."

"What did he say?"

"He wanted to know why I killed Charlie. He asked if it was because becoming a Mage changed me… boring little questions."

"Right…"

"Why do you trust Dumbledore?" the Mirror asked. "After all he's done to you?"

"Well…I'm in a strange world and everyone thinks I'm a murdering Death Eater. I'm stuck in Azkaban—I have no choice but to trust him, while I help you.

"Don't get me wrong, I'm really angry about it, but I haven't got the energy to hate and sit in misery here."

"You forgive too easily—you're too trusting," Mirror Harry hissed, "You crave love and acceptance like its oxygen. It's a weakness."

"And I suppose that's the quality which sets us apart." Harry shrugged. "Weren't you like that before becoming a Death Eater?"

"Never!" Mirror Harry snorted. "But our different upbringings shaped us into what we are: I grew up in a well adjusted family. You didn't. I had loving parents and siblings. You just had dead parents and family who despised you."

"Well lucky you," growled Harry.

The Mirror smirked. "Sleeping in the cupboard under the stairs? I had a bedroom filled with toys and a mother who kissed me goodnight. I had three square meals a day and treats… you didn't." His Mirror laughed.

"It's not funny!" Heat rose into Harry's cheeks.

"I was chased around the house by my father, threatening me with the belt if I was naughty. He never hit me though … You however—before those Hogwarts letters began arriving—were belted if Uncle Vernon _managed_ to catch you. Then he'd drag you to the cupboard.

"It didn't happen often, but when Vernon did it a little more of you crumbled. You stopped fighting back and just ran, hoping they'd miss—"

"I rebelled—"

"Only when the house was dark and they were all asleep did you try. Taunting Dudley and stealing food? Pathetic…" he cut. "It made you feel better, but it wasn't enough."

As the Mirror slowly walked towards him, Harry felt the cell darken around him. There was tightness in his chest, strangling him, and each of his Mirror's words struck him like an iron fist.

"I was encouraged to ask questions, to be imaginative—curious—that sometimes it got me into trouble. But my parents enjoyed the fact I was just _being_ a kid. They loved the fact that I was just being _their_ child."

"Why are telling me all this—?"

"You were silenced. Your inquisitive nature was almost squashed. You grew independent of everyone. You didn't bother asking the questions when it _really_ mattered. If you did, maybe Sirius would still be alive—"

"Stop this—!"

"You didn't have a chance until Hagrid gave you that Hogwarts letter and even then you mistrusted it… The Dursleys almost won, but they didn't. You saw a flicker of hope."

He backed himself against the wall, far away from his Mirror. "You're talking shit."

He chuckled and continued ripping Harry to shreds.

"I had the freedom to be just me and to develop—discover my powers, my family and traits. You never had the chance, and I fear you still have a long way to go before you do."

"You've got it all wrong!"

"Do you think you've only been in prison for a month now, Harry?" His Mirror waved around the cell. "Look back, and think _really_ hard… do you see it now? Do you see what I have witnessed and felt in your pathetic eighteen years of existence? Do you realise it now? You've _always_ been imprisoned, and you still haven't found a way to escape."

"That's not true!" Harry yelled. His Mirror's words were like sharp needles piercing his heart. He'd seen the darkest part of his soul and he was telling him exactly like it was. "I discovered Hogwarts—"

But Mirror Harry cut through his words again, so silkily and quick, that he had no time to feel the pain before the next one sliced.

"You're right, you did discover Hogwarts. It may not have been the cupboard under the stairs, but Hogwarts was just a bigger version of that prison. It was filled with smoke and mirrors to keep you distracted. It will always be a terribly manipulative place where the adults raised you so you could sacrifice yourself willingly."

"STOP!"

It was suffocating. Harry hadn't felt like this since the Horcrux locket had hung around his neck. He instinctively looked down at his chest, but there was no locket hanging there. It was just like when Tom Riddle's soul was mocking Ron.

The Mirror's green eyes flashed, and there was a wide heartless smile on his face. "Feeling it again?"

"What do you mean by that?" Harry hissed.

"I'm just telling you the brutal truth. You doubt yourself and your abilities. I don't. I marvel them. I _know_ who I am."

"Then _who are you_?" Harry said, his anger flaring.

The Mirror closed his eyes. Harry could see his Adam's apple bobbing up and down.

"It—it took you awhile to trust adults, even now, you're mistrusting of them, but when you did your loyalty was fierce."

"And you?"

"I trusted adults around me wholeheartedly. My loyalty was fierce too. I would've sacrificed my life in a heartbeat. I did what they asked me to do. I fought, even though it frightened me at times. I didn't ask questions anymore..."

"What happened?" Harry asked.

"I was getting closer to defeating the Dark Lord and that's what really mattered. One more… just _one_ more, and it would soon be over—and then—in the blink of an eye, it wasn't."

"Why?"

"Part of it was Dumbledore's meddling, part of it mine. All that matters, is that in the end it's all for death and suffering. There'll never be a happy ending for us."

They were so close now that Harry could see the flecks of gold in his Mirror's green irises. "Are you going to fight now?"

"I lost my battle a long time ago."

"No, you gave up," Harry whispered. "I wouldn't."

"I know. I've seen what lurks inside you, but you won't let it win. You won't give up your war, even if it destroys you and kills off everyone you love." Mirror Harry turned away. "I suppose, despite what you've been through, despite that cupboard door opening up to a world far more dangerous than you have ever imagined, you've succeeded better than I have and ever will. So perhaps you do see an escape…"

"Do you?"

"I never will." There was sadness in his voice, an inexplicable hurt that was tearing at his soul.

"Harry, you can still fight! There's always second chances."

The Mirror frowned. "That's exactly what my mother would've said if she knew too."

He disappeared from the cell, leaving Harry alone to face his own reflection.

 


	18. Chickens are Spooked

**Chickens are Spooked**

Something clicked in Lily's mind. It felt as though her head was clearing up a little, like clouds dispersing on a grey day. In her heart, she had known something wasn't right, but then it was gone, and she believed that boy _was_ hers. _Strange..._ she thought, unable to pinpoint when her doubts had gone astray.

_Who is in Azkaban…?_ Lily felt sickened that she hadn't believed the boy who had Portkeyed into her house. "I've condemned my boy…"

"Lily, please believe me," Petunia said shakily, swotting Octavia away from giving her a potion.

"Thank you, Tuney…"

Petunia gawked at her like she had gone mad. "For what?"

"We know the truth."

Lily left the bedroom in a daze, ignoring Octavia's worried questions. She wandered downstairs and was clasping a cloak around her shoulders, until her boys, Michael and Christopher asked her where she was going.

"To see Dumbledore…" she replied monotonously.

Disapparating, Lily appeared in a green, picturesque landscape. There was a scattering of houses and farms surrounded a snaking river. From a distance it seemed like there wasn't a house on the rocky hill she had landed on, until she travelled past a small gnarled tree. A small house started to materialise out of nowhere.

When she first thought about Dumbledore's residence as a fresh-faced, awed Muggle-born girl starting at Hogwarts, she had always imagined that he lived in a magnificent house with many rooms, with nooks and crannies. Lily thought that mysterious objects and tinkering instruments adorned every inch of that house and, strange artefacts from all over the world would've decorated the interior.

It wasn't until years later, as a war veteran visiting, was she surprised that Albus Dumbledore lived in a modest cottage with only three rooms, and an outdoor toilet. The walls within were bare except for a few paintings, and whatever knowledge and objects Dumbledore had collected over his life were hidden away in trunks. It was the complete opposite of his office at Hogwarts which brimmed with the essence of magic itself.

Dumbledore was definitely home. The little house on top of the hill was billowing smoke out of its chimney.

Lily didn't have to knock, because Dumbledore had already opened his front door and was watching her. His long white beard gently waved in the breeze as he sipped a mug of coffee. Twelve owls of various sizes and colours sat on the roof, waiting patiently for letters.

"Good morning." He smiled wistfully, though behind those blue eyes, she knew he was thinking that something was wrong.

"Albus, I—""

"Come inside first."

Entering the candlelit house, the smell of wood smoked meat and haddock filled her nostrils. Lily didn't take her cloak off, nor did she sit when Dumbledore offered her an armchair. She shook her head he gave her a cup of tea.

Lily ventured over to the plain wooden desk, next to Fawkes sleeping on his perch, as Dumbledore flipped over his frying bacon in the kitchen. On the desk she saw several quills were working on their own, scribing letters. Each letter had the same three sentences:

_The chickens were spooked and have flown the coop. Mother says don't go to the pub. Get the bread and come home._

Her heart fell. She knew these sentences off by heart and it meant: Voldemort was about to attack and the Order couldn't do anything to stop it: _Abort. Abandon your post. Destroy secrets and run._

Then she noticed an open letter, which no doubt Dumbledore had just read before her impromptu visit.

_Chickens spooked. Snake's bitten. Poison spreading. Chickens can't save it._

_Godric safe with the rising sun._

_Flown. 3 golden eggs left behind._

"I guess you are not here to gossip over tea and biscuits." Dumbledore covered the letter with his hand.

She tore her thoughts away from the cryptic letter. "Albus, Petunia's woken up. She's been cursed not only by Harry but by someone else. She says that there are two Harrys." The words left her mouth like sandpaper grating her tongue. Perhaps she could do with some tea after all. "We need to know who is in Azkaban. If the wrong boy is there, then we need to get him out, straight away!"

It had been awhile since Dumbledore's been lost for words. The last time he was had been when he found out about Charlie's murder. "I—" He sighed and sipped his coffee instead.

"Albus?" Lily whispered, panic in her voice now.

"It is a little more complicated than that, I'm afraid."

"What do you mean by that? We need to find this Mirror and make sure he's safe."

"It's too late."

"You knew about this boy—oh my God!" Instantly she knew the wrong Harry was in Azkaban.

"Lily, please—"

"Why—why haven't you gotten—?"

Then it dawned on her as she gazed into those light blue eyes seeking answers, but only masks and lies stared back at her. "You've been putting the spell on Petunia so she wouldn't tell us!"

"Yes."

"WHY?"

"As I said…" His words were crisp, freezing her bones. "It's more complicated—"

"I don't care! You have to get him out _now."_

Dumbledore placed his coffee mug down, letting the tension and the sound of Lily's frantic beating heart fill the air.

"Albus, you _really_ need to get this man out. He doesn't belong in our world—in our war!"

"I cannot get him out of prison myself, but it will be soon." He glanced every so slightly at the letter under his hand.

Lily stood up, fury filling her veins. "Soon isn't good enough!" She was about to bolt out of the door, when a hand grasped her arm tightly. For an old wizard around 180 years old, who had just recovered from a major defeat, he had a surprisingly strong grip

"Let go. If you won't get him out, I will find someone who'll help me!"

There was anger, and there was concern lining every inch of his face. "Listen to me carefully: you will not do anything stupid. If you risk rescuing him now, you will jeopardise your son's life—"

"HE'S MY SON TOO!" Lily yanked her arm away and stormed out.

"LILY!"

She was shaking and furious. Turning around in the breeze, hair whipping her face, Lily saw that the Dementor mist was starting to roll over the hill. "I thought you were different, Albus… Where has your honour gone? What about your bravery? This is an innocent life we're destroying. I can't do anything knowing that this Mirror is in Azkaban." It hurt to think that this wizard, this man who was a mentor and father figure to them all, could act this way. "How many other lives have you played with?"

"Unfortunately too many…" he replied. He really looked his age now, frail and weary as though Lily had washed off the façade of greatness and power off his skin. "It is a means to an end," he whispered. "I will not die until I see this war end."

"Well, I will try and save this boy, even if I die trying."

"Then you will have destroyed our only hope left."

"Do you not hear yourself? There will be no hope left in this world if this boy is broken. I won't let him be our sacrificial lamb!"

"Even though, this _sacrificial lamb_ is helping to save your own child?" Dumbledore's eyebrows rose in surprise.

Lily breathed in deeply. What was Dumbledore up to with her son? In her heart she knew the answer. "Yes—absolutely!"

"You are an exceptional woman, Lily…" There was no malice or mockery in his voice. "But do not to meddle in this. This stranger knows why he's still in Azkaban. He knows the plan. He knows I will get him out soon and when your son is ready."

"Ready for what, exactly?" Lily asked. "You know where he is then?"

"Yes."

"Well," she huffed. "Well, your plan can be put on hold for the moment because I am getting this man out whether you like it or not!"

She stormed off, ignoring Dumbledore's pleas to return back and talk. Lily wasn't going to sit back, oh no. She felt lost and helpless knowing that her husband was missing, but she wasn't going to let a Mirror son of hers suffer any longer.

* * *

His house was quiet and dark again, just the way he liked it, but Severus stared at the little piece of parchment with Jessica Potter's parentage.

_Lily Potter_

_and_

_James Potter_

He knew someone had placed a curse on Lily, but why? Who had done it, and why this horrible lie that he was the girl's father? It angered him.

Until he knew for sure what this all meant he wasn't ready to confront Dumbledore, or even help Lily. He was worried that taking off the curse would open the floodgates to an even more dangerous situation.

There was a sharp crack in the air next to his face. A note appeared out of thin air, smoking. Severus picked it up, flapping it around.

_The chickens are spooked. Is there a snake hiding in the coop?_

He instinctively touched the hidden Dark Mark on his arm. The mark had not burned since the day he met Lily amongst the ruins of Godric's Hollow. The Dark Lord had been insistent that Severus abduct Jessica Potter. Since then, his master had been quiet. This was not a good omen.

There were times when high ranking Death Eaters were left out of certain plans. The Dark Lord didn't like putting his secrets in one basket. He also gave each of his servants a turn basking in his glory. Severus knew he would find out about the plan minutes before the attack.

He read the last part of the note.

_Pick a bone in March and do_ _ **d**_ _ge a toothache. Save the golden eggs_.

Golden eggs meant sympathisers with the Order of the Phoenix. Though not vowed members, since the Order is an outlawed organisation, many had simply shared information with Dumbledore.

Something was going to happen to the Ministry.

There was a knock on the door. "What now!" He looked out of the living room window and saw a figure in a blue cloak. However, Severus knew that shade of long, red hair very well. He rushed to his front door, opening it.

"Severus—"

"Are you insane? You're risking you life showing up here!" His heart sank when he saw the tears welling up in Lily's eyes. "What's wrong?"

He scanned Spinner's End, then ushered her quickly inside. This was reminiscent to that day ten years ago when she'd come seeking his support. He was about to ask her if she had the desire to spill another earth shattering secret _,_ but that would've been unfair of him.

"Too much..." She moved into the living room, pacing up and down, biting her thumb. Severus used to see her do this whenever Petunia was being particularly nasty to her.

"Jessica or James?"

"Neither—this is about Harry."

"Why?" His voice was oily.

Lily glared at him. "Albus won't help. I need to get him out of Azkaban now. They have the wrong boy there."

"What are you talking about?" _Whoever put that curse on her wanted her to go mad_.

Lily told him everything. At first Severus didn't believe a word of it, but as he thought about it, it sort of made sense. Hadn't he thought it was strange that the boy had suddenly vanished to save two Conditioned from Bellatrix's grip, and then return? In truth, Severus was sure that the boy didn't even know of their whereabouts.

_Now I have two Potter twats to deal with…_

"Ahh, so, Albus doesn't want to help him now?"

"I can't just leave him in prison! I am so angry, Severus. I just don't know what to do!"

"Lily…" he gently coaxed her to sit on the couch, the very same spot Bellatrix had sat. "I trust Albus Dumbledore and if he doesn't want to get the boy out yet, than there's very good reason for it."

"But—"

"I know it's hard—"

"I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU'RE ON HIS SIDE!" Lily screeched. "Everyone would be on Dumbledore's side, but I-I thought you—even though you're a Death Eater—would help me save him. He's innocent!"

Lily rushed out of the room, but Severus wasn't going to let her go easily. "STOP!" he yelled. He grasped both her arms, stopping her getting to the door.

"GET OFF ME!"

He held on to her tightly as she struggled in his arms. He was not about to let her go in this state and die trying to save this Mirror son of hers.

"LILY—!"

"LET GO!" She bit his arm and almost escaped as the shock of pain hit him, but Severus pulled her violently back, with her hair flying in every direction, like dark fire. Now face to face, he huddled her crushingly tight, until she was bashing his chest with her fists, feet kicking his legs. He was determined not to lose her.

"YOU HATE HIM! YOU JUST WANT TO SEE HIM DIE—"

"I don't hide my feelings towards your boy, Lily, you know why—but I don't want him dead. I made a promise to Dumbledore a long time ago, before your boy became a Death Eater that I'd watch over him."

"You did?" she gasped.

" _The boy is an insufferable brat… exactly like his father…"_

" _Severus, your past is clouding your vision of the boy. Yes, he may closely resemble his father, but his nature is that of his mother's… I have watched him grow since he was a baby. He is a modest and compassionate boy. Intelligent and brave, and his power will grow. You must protect him. Voldemort will realise his mistake soon."_

Lily looked up, her tears falling now, her green eyes brighter. "You failed," she said harshly.

Suddenly she slapped him hard. The shock was not from the actual hit itself, it was the rage and hurt behind it that stung most. He didn't react. Severus knew he deserved another and another one after.

"This is your fault! If you never told Voldemort that prophecy—"

"How was I to know the prophecy involved you? I was a stupid boy then!"

"IT DOESN'T MATTER!" she screamed. " _YOU_ DESTROYED _TWO_ FAMILIES!"

She was blaming him for everything, and rightfully so. There was never a night that Severus didn't dream about baby Neville Longbottom's lifeless eyes staring back at him. He'd plead for the boy to wake up as he sobbed with the child in his arms.

"—And if you didn't hate James so much because of your past. They were just stupid kids!"

" _Hey Snivellus…"_

" _Hey, where you going?"_

" _Oi, don't ignore us!"_

_Yellow liquid drenched his head, down to his socks. Students everywhere laughed and laughed. Severus winced, smelling the strong odour of urine and the sting in his eyes. He saw the chamber pot rolling to a stop at his feet. He wouldn't let them beat him this time. He walked past the throng of laughing and pointing students. Potter, Black, Lupin and Pettigrew were all jeering in his wake._

"Stupid kids can leave a lasting impression!" he roared, shaking her. "Kids can destroy lives just as easily as adults can. LOOK AT WHAT HARRY DID TO YOUR FAMILY!"

He let go of her, realising his mistake and backed against the wall, afraid he'd do something else he'd regret. It was moments like these Severus had been afraid he was channelling his father's violent soul.

Lily started to sob, falling to her knees. "I know… I can't lose him," she cried, "I can't lose him again…"

He calmed down, wringing his shaking hands. "I… I will speak with Albus…" He cleared his throat. The words were gripping his mouth, trying desperately not to part his lips. "Maybe I can help, in some ... _small_ way."

If the Dark Lord was going to attack the Ministry soon, Dumbledore would want to rethink the situation about keeping the Mirror in Azkaban.

_Speak of the devil,_ Severus thought, recoiling as his Dark Mark burned.

"Lily, go home. The Dark Lord's summoned for me."

* * *

It was nine in the morning and the Ministry of Magic atrium was buzzing with yawning wizards and witches, lining up in long queues. Security was strict every day and two Aurors patrolled every Ministry entrance and lifts. Past the security points there was a battalion of Aurors in armour and shields. A battalion in plain clothes also protected the Muggle Streets above the Ministry, and Aurors patrolled every department, pacing up and down, vigilant of any brewing trouble.

Every day, all Ministry workers coming in to start their day's work had to be checked for Death Eaters imposters. Their wands were examined and questions asked. Their eyes were tested for signs of the Imperious Curse, and blood verified for Polyjuice activity.

Except today was just a little bit different…

"We apologise," an Auror wearing a gold helmet started, "we'll need to confiscate your wands for further inspection."

There was a sea of groans echoing off the marble walls.

"Settle down! Your wands will be returned to you throughout the day, so you'll have to go about your work without magic for the time being."

There were a couple of protests. "You can't just take our wands like that! It's like telling us you want our limbs for the day."

"You will do as the Ministry instructs or you will have a cell ready in Azkaban," the Auror said.

At around eleven, the several long queues of Ministry workers had finally dwindled and vanished, the Aurors stood still, waiting.

Fire grates roared to life instantaneously, and Death Eaters appeared, this time robed and ready.

Voldemort was at the front, holding his Elder wand. The inner circle comprised of his most insidious Death Eaters and Seniors were close behind. Then the rest of the purebloods joined in, followed by the Conditioned. Next to come were the half-bloods and finally the half-breeds.

They marched forward like a tsunami of black robes and silver masks.

 


	19. The Ministry Falling

**The Ministry Falling**

Cotter walked into Harry's cell alone, carrying a small bottle.

"What's happening?" he asked, staring at the orange liquid sloshing inside the bottle.

"Quarantine's over. I made a potion to protect us. Drink up." She uncorked the bottle, and poured a little of the orange liquid into a tin cup.

"That was quick," he said, accepting the cup. "What caused it?"

"By a magical cousin of the Black Plague," Cotter grimaced. "I think Bernard—the first prisoner, had eaten a rat in his cell. Rapid infections sometimes occur here."

Harry drank the disgusting potion. It tasted like rotting sardines. "Did Brodes survive?"

Her expression turned dark. "Unfortunately... Brode's isn't an easy man to kill, Potter. He's already up terrorising Class B prisoners out of the Black Square. Meryn survived as well, and the prisoners who were infected will make it through now."

Then more pressing questions sprang to mind. "What happened to my father? Is he still here?"

"No. He was taken away, back to a more secure location." Cotter corked the bottle again. "But your father left a message for you: the children are safe and well."

Harry let out a sigh of relief. "Thanks…"

* * *

After Cotter left, boredom got to Harry. He ate another one of Dumbledore's biscuits to resume the strange Mirror connection even though he still unnerved by the previous experience.

He walked through the mirror, ignoring his reflection and found himself following a much more agile Remus Lupin up the Potter's staircase, holding his little Mirror's hand.

Harry could feel the fear in the boy.

Remus occasionally slowed down so that the little Mirror could catch up. They were silent as they walked through the corridor upstairs. Then voices were drifting out from the closed bedroom door at the end.

"… In the last few months he's displayed really powerful, meditated magic. It exhausts him, Albus. It's not accidental magic, it's more intentional," Lily said. "I saw him transfigure Michael's nappy into an almost perfect safety pin. What four year old child does that? Then he sleeps for unusually long periods afterwards."

"…But Albus, surely, this magic is just too rare… No one in my family has ever been one—"

"It doesn't necessarily have to be from your side of the family, James. Even though Lily is Muggle-born, somewhere down her family line there's magic," Dumbledore spoke.

"Well, it definitely skipped a few generations," she exclaimed. "Do you think this is the _Power the Dark Lord knows not_ , as the Prophecy states?"

Remus knocked, breaking the conversation within.

"Come in," Lily answered.

The bedroom door swung in. Harry saw a younger Dumbledore with grey hair and beard. Lily was sitting on the edge of the James's sick bed and he was extremely pale and clammy. James was slowly, but shakily drinking a cup of tea.

Remus tugged on the child to enter. "Come on, Harry, it's Okay." The boy was scared.

James grinned over his tea. "Here's my little tyke!"

"Harry, come here." Lily smiled, patting her lap.

The little boy gulped, looking at Remus for reassurance. The werewolf smiled gently and urged him on.

"Good afternoon, Harry," Dumbledore greeted happily.

"Hullo Mr Dum-bly-dore," the boy said shyly as he clambered onto his mother's lap. His green eyes were reproachful, before he buried his head into Lily's flowery dress.

"Harry," she laughed, "Darling, there's nothing to be shy about—"

The boy mumbled something, somewhere amidst his mother's armpit.

"…No sweetheart, you're not in trouble. Mr Dumbledore has a few questions for you."

Dumbledore rummaged through his purple robes, and then tapped the armchair next to him. "Harry, sit here with me. I have a treat for you."

The Mirror reluctantly obeyed and the old wizard pulled out a chocolate frog, handing it to the boy.

"Thank you, Mr Dum-bly-dore…"

"Would you like me to tell you an amazing, stupendous story, my boy?" Dumbledore smiled.

Little Harry turned to his parents, again looking for support. They both smiled back. "Yes, thank you, Mr Dum-bly-dore."

"A long time ago—"

"How many years?" the boy interjected.

James snorted and Harry saw a cheeky smile appearing just beneath Dumbledore's grey whiskers.

"Oh… lets say over a hundred years, give or take." Dumbledore cleared his throat. "There was a little boy, just like you—"

"Did he wear glasses?"

"No, but he was just as small and skinny as you are and he asked a lot of questions too." He peered at the child above his half-moon spectacles. "This little boy was happy and he played with his brothers, but sometimes the children made things happen by accident because their magic was growing. This is all normal. This is all a part of growing up. But sometimes, this boy's magical accidents felt different to him. They felt so powerful that he was very tired afterwards and had to take long naps. Do you understand, Harry?"

He nodded as he played with his unopened chocolate frog.

"One day, this boy was playing hide and seek and hid behind a big tree. He touched this tree, and all of a sudden, he felt a strange power— an energy he never felt before entered his body. The boy looked up and saw that the leaves on the tree were dying. When he pulled away, the leaves started to recover and become green again. The boy touched the tree again, and he felt its power becoming a part of him. The tree died, but the boy now had the tree's power within him."

Little Harry's brow crinkled and he sullenly bowed his head.

"Harry," Dumbledore said soothingly. "What happened to your father yesterday?"

"I don't know… We were pw-laying and I touched his face, and—and I felt like—I felt weird..."

"How did that power feel?"

"Stwange Mr Dum-bly-dore, but it felt nice. I will never do it again." The boy frowned, giving his father furtive glances. "Will Daddy be Okay?"

"Yes, but for now he must rest… Has this happened before?"

Mirror Harry shrugged. "Sort of, with Mildred, my cat… I touched her once, and I could feel her life and her feelings. She didn't like that and she bit me and—and she ran off." The boy held up a finger. "Can you see the scar?"

"Oh dear, that does look nasty. Harry, eat your chocolate frog." Dumbledore looked up at his parents.

"Surely he can't be?" James said. "Little children don't draw power from other living things. This is D-A-R-K—"

"James!" Lily snapped. "Not now."

Dumbledore played with his beard. "Yes they do at this age. It is natural for young— M-A-G-E-S. It's only a short phase, a foretaste of what they can become with the honing of their ability. It is such a flitting glimpse that many don't recognise it for what it truly is. Therefore, many wizards grow up never knowing of their gift. If Harry had never retrieved your power, James, we may never have known."

"I rather we don't—"

"James!" Lily huffed indignantly. She asked Remus to remove her son from the room.

As Harry watched Remus take the child's hand, he saw a mirror materialise on the wardrobe door. He quickly went through it.

He found himself on a windy cliff top, and witnessed his sixteen year old Mirror sitting precariously at its edge.

Harry strolled forward with the wind whipping up his hair and gazed below. It would've been a good hundred metre drop, and the jagged rocks would've ripped anyone to shreds. Harry watched the waves pound them, and tasted the saltwater drops drifting in the wind.

But something was wrong. He observed every feature on his Mirror's exhausted face. He was shivering and looked like a corpse. He watched the waves beneath. Just one move and he would fall.

He could feel the boy's anxiety, and a cold black feeling of despair. The Mirror wanted death.

Harry turned around and surely enough, he saw Bellatrix and others waiting in the distance. Draco Malfoy then approached the Mirror.

"Harry?" Malfoy said. He reached out, pulling on the Mirror's robes. "Don't do it."

"Fuck you, Malfoy."

Malfoy pointed his wand at him. "I'll save you again."

"I know you would." The Mirror twitched his head and sighed. "Sit with me."

"Er… as long as you promise not to shove me off."

"I don't have the energy to do that."

Malfoy cautiously sat down. "Here…" He pulled off his cloak, placing it around his friend's shoulders.

The Mirror raised his chin, staring stonily at the sea. "Why did you save me, Draco?"

"Because I need to make sure you get to Hogwarts. The Dark Lord and Dumbledore expect you to start sixth year."

" _Dumbledore…"_ he whispered, his glassy green eyes reflecting the waves below.

Draco turned back, so did Harry. The Death Eaters watched on with their black robes fluttering in the wind like grim demons.

"Yeah, Dumbledore's waiting for you."

When Malfoy looked up the Mirror was staring him in the eye. "Why did you do it, Draco? Dying would bring me peace. I wouldn't have to face them again."

"Because that's a coward's way out... After everything that's happened… you need to finish this mess."

At first when he had seen it, Harry had thought it was a puddle, but beside his feet an oval mirror glittered. He jumped through, landing softly in a shabby backyard.

Harry found his Mirror sitting on a rusty bench, bent over with a hand on his forehead, deep in thought. There was a rabbit hole in front of him and with his outstretched hand, muttered, _"Avada Kedavra…"_

Nothing happened.

"Avada Kedavra…" Leaves outside the hole smoked. He puffed up his chest. "Avada Kedavra…" he said again more confidently. This time the leaves caught on fire.

A boar bolted from the bushes, scaring them.

"Bloody hell, Charlie!"

Mirror Harry jumped onto the bench as the boar circled it, then he attempted to push it over with his tasks.

"Stop!" he cried out, trying to keep his balance.

The boar obeyed, but pawed at the dirt angrily. He wasn't a complete Animagus yet. One of the boar's ears was still human looking and his snout looked more like a nose. He changed into human form with a pop.

"What were you up to?" Charlie asked, dusting off his ripped t-shirt. "And why have you packed up all your stuff? Are you leaving again?"

"Nothing's happening—just stop being so nosy!"

The Mirror jumped off the bench, staring at his brother. They both faced each other: a scrawny boy next to his rotund, taller brother.

Charlie looked around and whispered. "You were practicing the Killing Curse. I saw you!"

"Why were you spying on me?"

"I wasn't, really. I just happened to see—it doesn't look good you're practicing the Dark Arts when Hogwarts has just closed because of mass murder."

Mirror Harry sighed and sat back down again.

"I think…" His younger brother hesitated. "I think you'll be able to master the curse with your wand at first, until you've gotten the hang of it— which I hope you won't by the way!"

The Mirror slowly pulled out his Yew and Phoenix wand. He swished it towards a small tree, and a jet of green light dazzled the boys, exploding the shrub in front of them.

_"Holy shit_ , Harry!"

Mirror Harry seemed unsure. Then a little brown rabbit poked his head out of its burrow, he pointed his wand at it. "I have mastered it for awhile... but why can't I do wandless to kill?"

Charlie's eyes widened and he held his breath. Harry could almost hear the boy's frantic thoughts. "Ha—Harry?"

The little brown rabbit was quite oblivious to the danger staring at its twitching nose.

The Mirror's hand shook. "I can't… I can't do this."

"Why do you have to?" Charlie turned the wand away from the rabbit. "This isn't you—"

"Shut up!" he lashed out, pushing his brother to the ground. He pointed the wand into his face. "I've killed already."

"Are you going to kill me to-too?" Charlie asked with fear in his voice. "What's happened to you? You used to tell me everything about what you were up to— with Voldemort, with the Horcruxes, with—with everything! You've changed so much ever since Dumbledore lost! Did you _really_ open the Chamber—?"

"I DIDN'T OPEN IT!"

Charlie got up and took a step forward, crouching cautiously close to his brother. "Harry, please tell me the truth. I won't tell anyone. All I want to know is, are you a Death Eater?"

A swift expression of terror crossed his Mirror's features. Harry had almost missed it.

"Yes," he replied quietly.

Charlie recoiled in horror. "For—for how long?"

"For a year now. The Dark Lord favours me." Mirror Harry lifted his wand again, smirking.

Charlie stood up, towering over his brother. "I can help you—"

"GET OUT OF MY SIGHT!"

Charlie obeyed, leaving his brother alone. Mirror Harry pocketed his wand. He picked up a rock and in rage threw it into the rabbit hole.

Another mirror appeared on the Potter's old stone wall. Like the others before it, Harry walked towards it, but he suddenly heard an echo, an anguished scream from somewhere in his Mirror's mind.

" _NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"_

But Harry ignored th plea and went through it.

" _Nooooooo—don't—not this one!"_

Oddly, the memory took moments to appear. It shimmered in blues, then a bedroom started to materialise.

Charlie sat at his desk reading a book. "Hey Harry," he said without looking up.

Harry turned around and found his Mirror standing at the doorway.

"Would you… er… mind helping me with this Defence essay? I want to get it finished soon. I can't believe its due on my birthday! You'd think Remus would lay off a bit."

" _No…"_ his words were barely a whisper.

The Death Eater strode into the room in silence, closing the door carefully behind him. Harry noticed the wand behind his back.

"Harry, wha—?" Charlie said, turning around, the wand was now pointing in his face.

"Why did you tell Dumbledore that I was a high ranking Death Eater?"

"Harry, I-I didn't! I never said anything—"

" _Avada Kedavra."_

The green light filled the bedroom and Charlie slumped onto his desk, his hazel eyes wide and lifeless.

Behind the bed there was a scream—a little girl was screaming. Jessica had been playing with her toys and Mirror Harry hadn't realised she was there.

The Mirror whipped around, hesitated, and flicked his wand at his sister. A jet of blinding white light hit the girl squarely in the face. She fell back screeching harder, covering her eyes. He jumped over the bed, and he was about to grab the girl when the bedroom door exploded off its hinges.

The scene disappeared into darkness. But Harry did not want to leave as a large mirror appeared, revealing his cell.

_So this is the memory… Was that why he killed Charlie, over a secret? What was he going to do with Jessica?_

* * *

Under the command of Bellatrix and her gang called the Nortorious Thirteen, Severus followed with the throng of armoured Death Eaters. They poured into the Ministry of Magic and into every department.

Death Eaters posing as Aurors positioned outside of the Minister's office had captured Minister Rufus Scrimgeour and Head Auror, Thomas MacCloud. They could hear Umbridge screaming somewhere too.

The Aurors guarding the Ministry were dead, their bodies transfigured into various objects and thrown aside. Those lucky enough to be spared were hoodwinked. This had been done in a synchronised attack striking all the on duty Aurors at three in the morning. One day before, almost all the senior Auror's Floo connections were diverted away from the Ministry. Then they were killed by the Notorious Thirteen. Those under the command of the Thirteen then Polyjuiced into the Aurors and infiltrated the Ministry.

Severus grimaced. Luckily for Shacklebolt, it had been his day off, and Tonks was pretending to be ill so she could work for the Order. But a few other Auror Order members would have died.

The screams started as they entered the departments. Curses bounced off the walls and the whole place lit up brightly. Papers and memos rained over their heads. Desks, chairs and doors splintered and hurled into the air.

Bellatrix who was manic, and her smile reeked of ugliness. She blasted the statues into rubble, and fired curses at stray witches and wizards, killing them instantly.

The Ministry employees had no wands, and every escape route had been blocked. Screams, pleas, mockery and cold brutal laughter filled the air. It sent a chill up Severus's spine. This was the devil's playground.

_"Please don't kill me,"_ the employees yelled.

Smoke and flames filtered through every corner. Witches screamed as Death Eaters had their way with them. Others were tortured before being shackled.

Severus watched his comrades pulling employees by their hair towards the atrium. They forced the employees to kneel on the floor. They were bloodied, and pale with fear.

The Dark Lord walked amongst them.

"Join me or die," he hissed, his snake-like eyes red like the blood smearing the atrium walls.

The Dark Lord stepped over the bodies of Scrimgeour, MacCloud, and the Head of Law Enforcement, Cornelius Fudge. He had killed them all himself in front of the crowd of frightened workers. Umbridge's head was next to the Minister, though her own body was nowhere to be found.

"Join me and your lives and your families will be spared."

More than eight hundred Ministry employees stood up and walked to the other side. Self preservation was such a Slytherin trait, Severus thought. The rest, who didn't join, risked everything. The Dark Lord turned to his servants and said, "Do what you want."

And so the blood bath began.

Walking briskly, Severus pulled three witches and a young wizard up nearest him and made sure a silver snake pin on his cloak glowed white. All of them struggled to be freed as curses flung over their heads, and bodies dropped like flies.

"Please don't," a blonde cried, makeup running down her cheek, her lip was split and bleeding. She looked only twenty, and Severus vaguely remembered her as a gossipy Hufflepuff he had taught. Brave stupidity had kept her kneeling, rather than join the Dark Lord.

He saw a boy with a small silver snake pin on his cloak too, and motioned him over. He guessed it was Draco Malfoy by his gait. Thank goodness his parents weren't in site.

When Severus had been summoned, he had heard the Dark Lord speaking with the Malfoys.

" _Lucius, the Department of Mysteries experiments on imprisoned lowly Death Eaters. There should be about fifty of them housed there. Get my servants out before the destruction of the Ministry."_

The boy took hold of two chained wizards and a witch and followed. As Severus continued through the chaos, more Death Eaters followed him with their captives.

Severus walked around Rabastan Lestrange with his face sweaty and bloody. He was pinning down a wizard with his foot while his partner, a witch with dark red hair and a square jaw cursed him. She too had a snake pin, though she choose to stay with Rabastan.

Further up the Ministry corridor where it was quieter, he opened a door forcing the prisoners inside. Then he watched as the other Death Eaters pulled theirs in. Severus locked the door and added the obligatory protection spells.

"Kneel!" Draco said in a deeper voice than usual. "NOW!" The twenty prisoners obeyed, scared and trembling.

"Mercy—don't hurt us." The blonde cried harder.

"Kill me now," one wizard stoically spat at Severus's feet.

"QUIET!" Severus paced up and down the group of prisoners. They were in a sterile, grey room, presumedly the security office. On the walls were posters of the most wanted Death Eaters alive. Severus scowled at the yellowed poster of Harry Potter.

He pulled out two Muggle pens Portkeys from his pocket. He activated them with a tap of his wand.

"You will be Portkeyed to a safe location. Disguise yourselves quickly. Don't tell anyone that you worked at the Ministry. Gather your families and get out of the country. Do you all understand?" A few nodded, but the rest were wary. "Don't tell anyone of our identities, for each and every one of you now owes us a life debt!"

Only Death Eaters who had received the Dark Mark could see magically through the masks. But when it was safe to do it, they simply touched their silvery snake pin, and they became disguised under their masks, and their voices were altered too.

Severus scanned the poised, silent Death Eaters, mostly compromised of the Conditioned. Miles, Malfoy, the Patil twins were in the room, along with Zabini, Clearwater, Chang and even Bulstrode and Greengrass. They placed random stolen wands, into the prisoners' pockets.

"Touch the pens," Severus ordered.

Shakily the twenty employees moved a finger towards the Portkey. The Portkeys glowed blue and in a flash. They disappeared, on the way to the outer boundaries of the Order of the Phoenix.

"What now?" Draco asked.

"Let us handle this." Miles relayed her plan. She and the twins burnt the desks around them, and created a large pile of ash in the middle of the room. It looked like the prisoners had been burnt to ashes. The room even smelt of burnt flesh and the carpet was singed. _Ravenclaws…_

Severus's Conditioned, Emily Miles, was a plain, brown-haired, blue-eyed witch, with a rather fantastic aptitude at Transfiguration, although abysmal at potion-making. Miles also had limited knowledge in Healing, thanks to her mother and got on well with the Patils.

"Momentarily withdraw your disguises and report to your Mentors," Severus ordered. "Then continue saving as many as you can. Be careful."

Miles stood by his side. "Tell the other snakes what to do. You don't need Snape's help again. Now go."

They left in a hurry. Then Severus remembered the note Dumbledore sent an hour before.

_Pick a bone in March and do_ _ **d**_ _ge a toothache. Save the golden eggs_.

* * *

As the memory faded, Harry looked up and saw his Mirror standing in front of him.

"It's time for you to leave."

"Why did you do it—?"

"LEAVE! You've seen too much, and I can't stop you quick enough!"

"I don't understand, your brother trusted you—kept your secrets. You're hiding something. You made that memory up—"

"GET OUT!"

Harry was blasted through his mirror, landing in his own cell. The Mirror followed through; there was fury in his face.

Without a word he disappeared and Harry suddenly awoke, feeling that same dread he felt the first time when his Mirror had entered his mind.

He retched, fell out of bed and shivered on the spot. Memories: his childhood, his years at Hogwarts flashed before him. _The Sorting Hat was telling him he'd do great in Slytherin… He felt the longing to see his parents alive as he saw their happy faces in photos… Harry felt the love from the Weasleys…setting Dobby free… saving Ginny… bringing back Cedric's body…_

What was he looking for? Or was it his revenge.

_The memory of Sirius dying, and his possession by Voldemort crossed his mind._

All that Harry kept saying under his breath was, " _Fight it Harry…"_

Then the cell door opened. Harry was shaking and confused as looming figure stood over him.

"You can't! Not now…" Harry trembled. "Not now!"

"Oh yes, I can. You belong to me, Potter, and I will have you whenever I want."

Brodes grinned, pupils always wide with excitement. Though his voice was hoarse and he looked as though he was still recovering from his infection. The Atoner wrapped his hand around Harry's neck and snorted.

"Look at this Meryn. He's pretending to be sick."

Harry wasn't thinking straight, he couldn't focus on two different situations; the one happening in his mind, while the other was happening in front of his very eyes. He shook violently as another memory danced before his eyes: _his mother screaming…_

Harry heard his Mirror whispering in his ear, as though he was right next to him. _"Do it… do it for us! Do it now!"_

His hands found the sharpened weapon beneath the mattress and whipped it out "NOT NOW!" he screamed as the locked room containing the power of love in the Department of Mysteries flashed before his eyes, and then…

He stabbed the Atoner.

Brodes didn't even scream. He looked down at his stomach in shock and staggered. Slowly, he pulled the stool leg out and started to smile as blood gushed between his fingers.

Meryn jumped over the bed and pinned a Harry against the wall. _What had he done?_ He was going to die now.

Somewhere in his mind, he could hear an echo of Mirror Harry's laughter.

" _Do you still think I can change, Harry?"_

Fear froze his every thought.

Brodes chuckled. "Oh, oh you're going to pay for this, Potter!" He looked at the bloodied weapon which he held up for Harry to see. "Quite dearly!"

Harry spat into the Atoner's face. "Just die!" he roared.

* * *

_Save the golden eggs…_

Severus walked plucked an old wizard he had spotted trying to kick a Death Eater covered in tattoos. "Dreadford, don't kill this one. I want to hear what secrets from Dumbledore's past he can tell me."

It was Elphias Doge and Severus dragged him along, almost running now to Amelia Bone's office. She was a high ranking official of the Wizengamot, secretly working to save Ministry protesters from jail. She had been Head of Magical Law Enforcement before she resigned, disgusted with the Ministry's regime.

Amelia Bones lay unmoving, face down on the floor of her little office. Severus pulled her over, seeing the dagger in her chest. The Death Eaters had ransacked the place and had left to torture the prisoners in the Atrium.

"Doge, stop fighting me, I'm not going to kill you!"

"Lies, all lies," Doge spat as he struggled to escape.

Severus felt Bones's pulse with one hand as he gripped Doge with the other. She was alive, though just.

Amelia Bones opened her eyes, sucking in a rattling breath. She grasped his robes. "We tried… we tried to save our secrets."

"The Dark Lord knows the Ministry secrets, every one of them. You risked your lives for nothing! You should've gotten out when word was sent."

She whimpered, holding his hand tight. "Griselda is dead…"

Severus told Doge to staunch the wound on Bones's chest, and then jumped over the upturned desks. Griselda Marchbanks body was nearby, her eyes wide, as though she had died staring death in the face.

He picked up a paperweight and minutes later it was a Portkey. Severus placed the object in Bones's hand, and made sure Doge touched it.

There was a whimper from inside a cupboard. Severus opened it, finding a witch huddled inside. She screamed as he yanked her out and forced her to touch the paperweight.

They disappeared in a flash of white light.

He slumped back and all of a sudden the Dark Lord's cold voice spoke to them all. "My servants, you have done well. We have the Ministry. Retreat quickly."

As Severus Disapparated from Bones's office, Fiendfyre blew the door off its hinges. He could see the flames billowing and blossoming in the distance like a beautiful yellow flower. The searing hot air brushed Severus's skin, paper and debris rushed past him and something sharp smashed into his arm.

* * *

A loud crack at the end of Spinner's end broke the eerie silence of the neighbourhood. Severus stumbled where he had appeared. He was wounded, but nothing serious and the edge of his cloak was on fire. He limped towards his house, unable to shake his head from Ministry fallen, their screams and their pleas

The Dark Lord's plan to take over the governing body was complete.

Severus stopped short of his kitchen, his memories beginning to fade. He had hoped to drown himself in a bottle of Firewhisky, but found Dumbledore waiting for him instead.

"You're hurt."

"It's nothing." He brushed Dumbledore's fingers away. He was panting, sweating, covered in blood and debris, and with an evil that would forever stain his hands.

"Sit down and let me see."

Dumbledore cut the cloth from Severus's left shoulder, peeling it off to reveal the jagged cut that spanned the length of his wrist to just above his elbow. He examined the wound gently.

"It's not serious."

"I could've told you that. Are you here for a debriefing?"

"I want to thank you for saving as many as you could. You, the Death Eaters and the Conditioned have saved over three hundred and forty." Dumbledore picked out a few bottles from his robes, placing them on the kitchen table. "The employees' families are all safe within the Order. You are all heroes."

Severus squirmed. He would never be a hero. As for the Conditioned, they had all suffered in the hands of Death Eaters, but their minds had always remained stubbornly to the good side.

He reluctantly formed a secret society mentoring those who wished to act as double agents becoming a part of the Unbreakable Vow to work for Dumbledore. Miles and Draco had urged him to. Though, Albus calling them heroes would mean nothing to them. These abducted children just want their Mentors dead and the war to end.

"Why did you abandon the Ministry?" he hissed as Dumbledore prodded and disinfected the wound with a salve.

"It was too late to stop it. Voldemort wanted to get the Ministry before Lord Grindelwald would. I only learnt of the attack twenty minutes before it happened."

"And I, minutes before. If you don't want a debriefing, what do you really want then?"

"Go to Voldemort," Dumbledore answered. "Azkaban will fall next. The Aurors there have the prison in lock down now. Agnes Cotter has reported back to the Order: Harry is not in a good state of health. While the Ministry was under attack the boy had been punished for attacking an Atoner.

"The Head Prison Warden, Auror Adrian Pickens, will open the Red File, containing the order to kill the prisoners in the Black Square once Voldemort attacks. Make sure you are the head of the Black Square rescue operation. Make sure Bellatrix isn't involved, and bring the boy here to recover."

"He's not—Albus, I can't look after him. Not this one!"

"I knew she'd come to you." Dumbledore nodded. "Lily's back at the Burrow tending to the injured now. That'll keep her occupied. I have never seen her act so irrational before, and I fear that all that has happened to her family has pushed her over the edge."

Severus wanted to tell him about Lily being cursed, but decided not to. "Can you explain why you are keeping this wizard locked away? I think I deserve an explanation."

"We need to fool Voldemort into thinking the boy is in Azkaban while we help him." Dumbledore sat down. "Harry's Mage power has corrupted him beyond recognition—"

He snorted. "That's an understatement."

"He is in the middle of his Dark phase and he can't pull through it. Once Harry moves past this, I think we'll see a change. For that reason his Mirror is helping him. I believe this Mirror Harry Potter will save him, and will help him see what he has done, is doing, and his future."

"So he is from another universe! But Albus, I think it's too late for our Potter—"

Dumbledore shook his head. "Harry is starting to display signs of change while he lays dormant. However, the corruption continues to have a firm grip on him. With his Mirror's help, he is starting to fight his oppression."

"I think you're wasting—Potter will never turn. The Dark Lord has him hooked around his finger. Now you are condemning an innocent wizard. Let the prophecy go. Potter will not—"

"Yet, it is a silly prophecy which Voldemort had believed and killed a child and his parents for. Severus, Harry will defeat Voldemort—"

"When? In another twenty-eight years?"

"It won't be long. The boy is ready, but the progression of this lingering Dark phase is holding him back." He sighed. "I am afraid… this is my fault. I had asked the boy to become a Death Eater. The experience, the Dark Arts, the Dark power he absorbed has tipped him over the edge."

"He _was_ working for you…"

"He had been, yes."

"You should've told me, Albus. I could've helped him." Then he cringed when the ointment Dumbledore was dabbing on his arm stung and smoked.

"It is more complicated than that, Severus."

"Tell me, why did you leave this innocent boy in prison?"

"I couldn't get him out of Azkaban without Voldemort finding out I had him and it was too dangerous for the Order nonetheless to attempt it. You couldn't get him out, especially since Voldemort wants the boy kept there. Lord Grindelwald broke him out once to rouse Voldemort, but will not again. Voldemort must trust our Harry. Having the boy with Grindelwald would end his close connection with his master.

"Now you want me to get him out and convalesce here," Severus said angrily.

"It is a risk which must be taken for a short time, while I decide what we will do with our Harry."

"What's happening to Potter? Where is he?"

"Asleep… It would be dangerous if we woke him now before his change. He will be extremely violent and powerful because his mind and his soul have been violated and intruded upon by outside forces. His power will instinctively react for him. If we wake him, we would lose our chance to turn him."

"Albus, where is he?" Severus asked again.

"With Gellert."

He raised an eyebrow. "You've left a powerful young Mage—who you want manipulated—in the hands of a rising Dark Lord—?"

"A Dark Lord? Gellert is working for me."

Severus glanced at Dumbledore sideways. He half expected to see Grindelwald jumping into the kitchen yelling, _surprise_! "Are you sure?"

"As sure as I am of you."

He always thought he was too trusting.

"Severus, make sure you are the head of the rescue operation—this I must reiterate—it must be you. Bellatrix will realise the difference, and if Voldemort finds out, he will be very interested in keeping the boy. I cannot let that happen. The Mirror has his own war to fight. I must get him back to his own world in one piece."

"One piece? It'll be too late for that."

"But you will get the boy out."

"Yes." Severus rolled his eyes in resignation. "I will go to the Dark Lord as soon as we're done here, and volunteer before Bellatrix sinks her claws in."


	20. rescuing Harry

**Rescuing Harry**

Severus was swiftly walking through the crowd of euphoric, Death Eaters on the grounds of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

He stepped over sleeping wizards who had drunk themselves into a stupor. He swerved around others re-enacting scenes they'd been a part of at the Ministry of Magic attack. A great bonfire was burning fiercely near the lake, and spells painted the misty, night sky an eerie green.

Scowling, he pushed his way through the burgeoning throng as he entered the castle. He ignored handshakes, pats on the back, and a drink that was pressed into his hands. Then a few steps ahead he threw the goblet away, and the mead splashed onto the face and robes of a wizard.

"Hey— _you!_ Look what you did—?" The Death Eater was about to curse him.

"Don't Humphries—that's Severus Snape—our Superior."

Severus's lip curled. "You'd be wise to listen. Attacking me is a death sentence." He flicked his robes and continued; albeit a little more careful as drunken and adrenalin-rushed, murderous fools were everywhere.

Not too long ago the castle was filled with over a thousand impertinent, mediocre, snotty-faced students' eager to learn magic. Now the castle was brimming with thousands of the Dark Lord's servants, and the dungeons were filled with Muggle-born slaves, blood traitors and enemies. There was barely room to breathe.

Within the rowdy castle a few of the surviving Ministry captured were chained to walls. Then Severus noticed a group of fifteen sombre goblins shackled together. Were they at the Ministry? Severus would need to investigate this later.

There was a boisterous reception within the Great Hall. Death Eaters were feasting, and stray spells bounced off the walls. They laughed, sang, and they toasted to the Dark Lord. Though their master was nowhere to be seen at the head of the hall, where once the teachers had sat with a protective eye over their students.

Severus found the Dark Lord's Nortorious Thirteen and the inner circle sitting there including: The Malfoys, the Lestranges, the Notts, Mulciber and Nesbitt families. Three generations of the Dreadfords were there along with the Cadwalladers, and the German, Ebner family. The Roux's, a reedy French couple sat in the corner, silently watching them all. Then there was Avery, the Goyles, and more.

There was a sudden roar of laughter and Severus saw Bellatrix standing proudly on the table, retelling a story to a bunch of onlookers by her feet. He didn't venture into the Great Hall, so he continued on.

Outside the Headmaster's office two Death Eaters stood, masked. The Death Eaters let him pass. Only Death Eaters within the inner circle had complete access to the Dark Lord's haunts.

He entered the bare and cold office. All the paintings of the Hogwarts headmasters and headmistresses had been slashed. They were nothing but strips of canvas on frames now. The cabinets were mostly empty except for a few objects, like a skull, a golden cup and even a gold galleon. There was a book shelf, where he could make out a few titles. A few books involved rituals, and some tomes were about Mage magic. Severus thought that his master needed to learn as much as possible about Potter.

The Dark Lord was looking out of the arched, stain glassed window. His wand was in one hand, in his other, there was a goblet with what Severus suspected, was filled with unicorn blood.

Dumbledore had been very curious about this. _"Perhaps that rumour of him weakening has some merit after all…"_

"My Lord." Severus fell to his knees in a gesture of servitude.

"Rise." His eyes glowed red in the firelight. "I didn't see you at the feast. I wanted you by my side."

"Thank you, master—it would've been an honour. But, I was hurt and needed to tend to my injuries first."

"Yes I see…" His snake-like eyes flicked to Severus's bandaged arm, which was now in a sling. "You will recover soon."

He walked towards him, his long black robes snaking round the desk. The silver embroidery glittered on its hems, and his immaculate dragon hide boots treaded softly on the stone floor.

"Why have you come to see me?"

"My Lord, I ask for the opportunity to head the rescue of the the Black Square prisoners. It would be an honour to rescue and house your elite—"

"Yes, MacNair, Yaxley, Crouch, Priscott, Kissane, Mulcahy, Potter, Gomersall, Cousart and the others are there." The Dark Lord's eyes narrowed. "Hmm… I would, however, you still have not given me what I wanted, Severus: Jessica Potter."

His heart jumped. "I have been trying, but the Potters have moved locations, and are within the protection of a Fidelius Charm."

"You must try harder or, I am frightened that you will find yourself in a prickly situation, and I do not wish that to happen."

"I will not fail you, master," Severus agreed. He knew he was walking on a tightrope. "Is the girl going to be kept here?"

The Dark Lord looked disdainfully at him. It made him wonder if the Dark Lord knew about Jessica's fake parentage.

"She will be returned to her mother after I instruct her on what she must do."

"Yes my Lord."

He drunk swiftly from the goblet before continuing, "Severus, when I initiate Death Eaters into my circle, I must have the loyalty of their families as well; I entrust that my servants will _instil_ into their children and spouses, our pure values."

"Of course—"

"Did you know Dumbledore left the Hogwarts Student Roll behind when the school was evacuated? No doubt he didn't think I'd take over."

"No…" Severus guardedly replied.

"I sometimes read the scrolls, trying to find Muggle-borns who have escaped our patrols."

Severus closed his eyes with dread.

"You see, the roll records students with magical blood. What else does it reveal?"

He opened his eyes. "Their parents and place of birth…"

The Dark Lord nodded. "Someone had cleverly added a spell to hide all this, but I removed it."

His master cocked his head to the side, walking towards him slowly, like a slithering snake.

"So imagine my surprise when I'd come across Jessica Potter's name. She would've been due to come to Hogwarts in a year or so." He smirked. "Lily Potter and… Severus Snape…"

He sat down in shock. Someone was playing games with him. But who?

"You didn't know?"

Lost for words, he shook his head.

"Your loyalty is what I want, Severus."

"I've always been loyal—"

"Perhaps, but you cannot shake your loyalty to Lily Potter. You may have fathered a child with the Mudblood, who is a member of the Order, and the mother of my powerful, young _friend_ , but your procrastination to bring her to me has me doubting you once more. And you know how much I hate procrastination."

He couldn't respond. He noticed he was gripping the arm of the chair so much, his fingers were cramping.

The Dark Lord moved over to the dusty old Sorting Hat. "Who will you choose for the rescue operation?"

Severus looked up, heart thumping. "Miles, Zabini, Draco Malfoy… I'll need Pritchard and the Patil twins—"

"Too young! You'll need experienced Death Eaters. Pritchard will not do, although his Healing powers will be needed. Just make sure he's sober for the rescue. You will need Bellatrix—"

"No, my Lord!" Severus looked up, his voice confident now. "I apologise for my curtness, but I don't want her."

The Dark Lord chuckled. "There is nothing like a healthy bit of competition. The mission is yours, Severus, however I want Dolohov and a few others involved who wish to gain prestige. Bellatrix can concentrate on the take over itself. Lucius will be in command this time."

"Thank you—"

"The imprisoned can recover at your residence. The boy—must be guarded day and night."

Severus hesitated. "Is there a problem with the boy, my Lord?"

"I want him kept safe, and perhaps tell him that I want his sister… it may make him more anxious to finish off what he was meant to do in the first place, and therefore, your precious daughter will remain safe in the end."

He was using the girl to test Severus's loyalty and Potter's own.

"We will strike tomorrow at midnight. I have captured some goblins that will destroy the magic surrounding Azkaban. Now go to the feast. Enjoy our victory."

* * *

Cell Number 13 was dull in colour, as though Harry's life was ebbing away.

He looked around, sitting on his bed. But it would be a stark contrast to reality. If he was awake, he would be strung up by chains in the middle of the square, after having been punished for stabbing Brodes. Harry was sure they'd left him there to die.

A mirror materialised on the wall. It rippled as his Mirror stepped out.

"I saw you being punished," the Mirror said. "You've hidden your injuries well."

Harry noticed the changes in his Mirror. His hair had been cut short and there was a lightening bolt scar on his forehead, exact same position and shape.

"I haven't eaten one of Dumbledore's biscuits, so why are—?"

"You've eaten enough of those things, that the connection between us has strengthened to the point we can enter each others minds at will," he answered. "I have to say, they _fucked_ you up good!"

"No thanks to you. If you didn't—"

"Urge you on?" Mirror Harry interrupted. "You have no idea what they did to me."

" _I_ have no idea? They subjected me to the same _fun_ they put you through."

Then he stretched his hand. "Take my hand."

Harry reluctantly did so and suddenly the dull colour of his sight became brighter, and he was able to see things more clearly.

"All I can do now is help you survive. You won't live through this otherwise." The Mirror closed his eyes.

Harry felt his body being nourished and strengthened. There was a tingling in his chest, his heart beat growing stronger. He needed more.

After a few moments his Mirror yanked his hand from Harry's grasp. He had to sit beside him, shaking, looking as though he was on the verge of collapse.

"Are you all right?"

"I'm feeling better than you." Mirror Harry was pale and struggling for breath. "I'll stay here until they come for you."

Harry gazed at him. "Why do you have a scar like mine?"

Mirror Harry touched it, and laughed. "We need to look exactly alike."

"Why?"

"Merlin, you are dumb sometimes! They'll be switching us at some point. You do want to go home, don't you?" he laughed weakly. "And Harry, congratulations, you're a fledgling Mage now."

"No I'm not!"

"Before you were leeching off my own power, creating equilibrium, but now, you've successfully drained some of my life. This is usually the first sign of being a Mage. I had to check."

"I can't be!"

"You were always a Mage, Harry. You just never had the chance to realise it."

"Look, I don't care what the hell I am right at this moment! I just want to get out of here alive."

His Mirror smirked, looking clammy and feverish now. "A Mage and a Parselmouth… and _much_ more… I'd be worried if I were you."

* * *

Azkaban stood threatening with its thick glistening stone walls, ancient and impregnable.

The rescue party of twenty Death Eaters crouched behind a large boulder. While all around the prison, Death Eaters under the command of Lucius Malfoy waited for the signal to attack.

Severus smelt the seawater and stale seaweed, and his fingers were numb to the cold. Waves crashed all around them, spraying them with salty water. If Lucius didn't start the attack soon, he was afraid they might freeze to death.

"Don't pass the wards unless you want to be fried into oblivion," he told the rescue party.

"Sir," Zabini spoke, "how do we know the Atoners haven't killed—?"

"We don't. We must hurry—no dawdling. You've all seen the map. We Apparate directly outside the door to the Square, then our goblins will break the rest of the wards." Severus nodded towards the two glassy-eyed goblins in Mile's control.

There was a red spark overhead. Severus, Dolohov, and Avery peered over the boulder, witnessing the Death Eaters stand, holding tightly onto their Imperioused Goblins.

The goblins sung their ancient incantations to break the protective wards surrounding the prison.

Jets of curses struck the rocks around them as the Aurors within Azkaban tried to fight back. They heard screams; a few Death Eaters had been hit. But the Aurors would know their fight was in vain.

There was a shiver and a ripple through the wards, and they crashed down. Death Eaters charged in through the passages.

The rescue party Apparated into a dark corridor, deep within. Azkaban was crowded and prisoners were shouting for their freedom. Severus saw no Aurors in the vicinity.

"Alohomora," Dolohov said. Without the goblins magic, the barred, iron doors screeched open. The Prisoners ran for their lives and vanished.

"That's one of the doors to the Black Square." Draco pointed up ahead.

"Quickly now." Severus led the Death Eaters with their goblins. They jumped over a bald Atoner, groaning in pain.

"Stupefy," Zabini cursed.

Miles and Avery held the goblins to the thick iron door. Even from a metre away they felt the strong magic radiating from it. The goblins took minutes to work their ancient magic, before they saw a white light appearing around the door, getting brighter until they had to shield their eyes. The ground before them started to tremble and then there was a resounding boom. The ground shook as the dead goblins collapsed.

"INSIDE!" Severus roared.

The prisoners within were screaming in terror. Atoners were herding them to their knees in the middle, ready to execute them.

"FIGHT!" a tall bearded Atoner yelled.

The Atoners immediately realised what was happening, rushing out of the cells and began their defence.

"AVADA KEDAVRA!" Avery yelled. The Atoner fell back with a heavy thud.

Severus ignited a golden shield around the rescue party.

Curses crisscrossed in a myriad of colours. Yaxley struck an Atoner unconscious with his elbow, while Crouch had his chains wound around the neck of his captor. Snape hit one of the Atoners with a quick Slashing Jinx.

"Petrificus Totalis," the Patils screeched. Two Atoners were struck as they tried to escape.

Death Eaters yelped to, falling to the floor when jinxes hit their faces.

Severus was exposed, but there was nowhere to hide. He pivoted, scanning the cells and noticed Potter strung up by his wrists. His head was slumped low and his blood dripped into a puddle. A bloodied, wooden weapon lay innocently on the ground by his feet. Severus knew it had been used for more insidious purposes.

Slashing his wand, the chains were undone and Potter crumbled gently to the floor. A curse suddenly singed Severus's neck and he threw himself under the upturned desk in the middle.

A few of the Atoners were hidden in the cells, firing spells at the very exposed Death Eaters. They were trapped and running out of time. Severus raised his hand high and closed it. _"NOW!"_

The rescue party Disapparated and reappeared within the cells, behind the Atoners, surprising them. "STUPEFY!" The Death Eaters yelled. The Atoners barely had a moment to react. They fell, and the few remaining prisoners huddled in the corners of their cell.

After several minutes, the restrained and semi-conscience Atoners were placed middle of the square. Severus and Pritchard were able to check Potter's condition. They crouched down and suddenly there was a sudden electric charge surrounding the boy.

"Back away, quickly!" Severus ordered,

Being a Mirror, the power Potter failed to absorb from his counterpart in prison had been halted. Now that power flooded back with the wards down, and Severus didn't want to die at the hands of a Mage.

"Potter, we're here to rescue you. You're safe now." He then whispered into the boy's ear without touching him, "Dumbledore sent me. Don't harm us."

Potter moaned and the magic evaporated. Severus's conjured a blanket, wrapping it around him as Pritchard stabilised his most urgent injuries.

"Help me!"

It was a faint yell coming from somewhere in the square. Severus looked around, realising the plea was coming from the floor.

"Zabini, get Cousart out of the trapdoor," Yaxley said. The boy flew into action.

The Square was silent now and the Prisoners stood, confused and scared. Some were pressed against the walls in shock. Others, like the imprisoned Death Eaters, and some of the Ministry protesters pointed the apprehended wands into the Atoners faces.

The prisoners had suffered brutally and inhumanly at the hands of the Atoners. Now freed, they wanted their revenge. The twenty Atoners were sombre; they knew it was the end.

Yaxley stepped forward, twirling around an olive wood wand. "Looks like the tides have turned, right?"

"You don't have the balls!" One Atoner snidely spat. His long grey hair was tangled around his face. "We are the good—"

"Good?" Yaxley repeated. His voice was scratchy. "You're no better than us!"

"I think we should have our _fun_ before we go!" Alana Priscott said to the prisoners, her sunken hazel eyes sparking to life.

Some nodded, while others wanted nothing more than to get out. Lovegood, and a few others Disapparated, but the rest stayed behind with dark looks on their faces.

"Where's Brodes?' Crouch asked, looking at the Atoners. "Still recovering from Potter's attack? We can't let him miss out."

Dolohov and Avery answered as they entered, dragging in the now semi-conscience Atoner. "Found him crawling outside, trying to get in. He had a spare set of cell keys…"

Crouch grinned, licking his brown teeth. "Siggy, pass me that weapon Potter used…"

Sigmus Pritchard obliged, throw the wooden weapon to Barty Crouch Junior. He caught it quite easily.

"What are you doing? We need to leave!" Severus hissed, passing a Portkey of a tin cup to Miles and the Patils. He turned to them. "You know what to do. Go to my house. Take Potter into the spare bedroom, everything will be ready there. Start the Diagnostic Charm." They nodded, knelt by Potter's side, and vanished. "Draco, go with them." The boy obeyed.

Brodes regained consciousness and realised his situation. "GET OFF ME!" Then he saw the weapon in Crouch's hands. "NO! WHAT ARE YOU DOING? I AM AN ATONER!"

"We'll be paying _you_ a little midnight visit…" Priscott said.

"NO!"

"Why not?" Another witch stepped forward. "We're just returning the kindness."

Severus was sure this witch wasn't a Death Eater.

Crouch took her hand gently, and pointed towards cell number 7. "Take him in there, boys. Meryn's there already."

"NO! I WAS GOING TO HELP FREE YOU!" Brodes shouted. His eyes were wide and dark.

"WE MUST LEAVE!" Severus yelled.

Then Azkaban shook on its foundations, and a fine dust fell onto their heads.

Zabini held onto Hagen Cousart and Disapparated. Gaunt and ragged Tobias Kissane and Zara Gomersall followed.

The freed Death Eaters didn't move including some of the Ministry prisoners. Severus pitied them. Many didn't know what to do now. Their homes were in ruins and their families were in hiding.

Blonde-haired and sinewy Richard Mulcahy turned to these inmates. "GO! YOU'RE FREE. THE DARK LORD DOESN'T WANT YOU."

Startled, some of the grey group vanished, while the rest stayed behind, determined to enact their revenge.

"We'll follow you, Severus," Rookwood said dryly, pointing the wand at the restrained Atoners.

There was a murderous look on his face and he thought it was wise not to intervene. A wizard's revenge was a dangerous thing to behold.

Severus Disapparated. He had done all he could. His mission was done.

* * *

Arriving at home, Severus rushed past the living room, where Gomersall and Kissane sat in melancholy. He ran past the kitchen where Zabini was slowly helping the trembling Cousart to a glass of water. He climbed the stairs, flicking his robes aside as he reached the spare bedroom. Draco was waiting outside, pale and morose as he sat.

"Why aren't you helping? Isn't Potter your friend?"

The boy looked up, grey eyes exhausted. "I've never been great with blood..."

"Make yourself useful then: Go to the Kitchen and tell my house elf to start preparing food and drink. Make sure they're all comfortable when the others arrive—and help Zabini with Cousart. He'll need to recover in the other spare bedroom."

The room was brightly lit and a fire burned in the grate, with a cauldron of boiling water on it. Pritchard washed his hands in a bowl of clean water, his robes taken off and his sleeves rolled up past his elbows. "This will be a long night, Severus. The boy is seriously lucky to be alive."

There was a bottle of Firewhisky half full on the shelf. Pritchard was sweating, and there was a bleeding cut on his bald head.

Severus eyed the bloodied, unmoving mess of a man lying on his back. The sheets beneath were already drenched red. Emily and Padma sat beside him, washing his body, while Parvati towered over him, resiting an incantation. A purple glow moved along Potter like a soft wave, gently touching his skin.

After washing his hands, Severus picked up one of the potions, shaking the sediment in them. Next to the bed there was a table filled with more potion bottles and ointments. Bandages and dressings were in a white bundle. A thick tome of Healing Spells was opened to a chapter entitled _Life Threatening Injuries._

When Patil's incantation ended, there was a small ' _ding_ ' and a piece of paper appeared, fluttering around her feet.

She picked it up and cleared her throat. "Patient is an eighteen year old male, five foot, nine, weighing ninety-five pounds, magical—"

"Yes, yes, go on," Pritchard exasperated as he poured out a glass of alcohol.

"From most serious to least: perforated bowel, causing peritonitis. He has a large tear in his liver with bruising and internal bleeding. Right bruised kidney, collapsed right lower lung. There are deep lacerations and bruising of genitalia, perineum and natal cleft, with an associated haematoma. Concussion. Fractures: Skull, left femur and pelvis, coccyx, right collar bone, wrist and bilateral kneecaps, nine ribs…"

As the girl continued detailing the injuries, Pritchard quickly set to work, waving his wand over the Potter.

"…Lacerations posteriorly: back to thighs. He is suffering from shock, dehydration and electrolyte imbalances…"

The girl went on with and took a deep breath when she finished.

"I don't understand why he's still alive!" Pritchard plucked the parchment from her fingers and read it for himself.

"Are you sure you did the diagnostic charm correctly?" Severus asked, observing her sister's chart of Potter. There were drawings of a man: front, back and laterally, with red pulsing dots fixtured on the diagrams where the injuries were.

"Sir, I have preformed this charm many times and I've never been wrong!"

"No potions—spell work only," Pritchard commanded. "Severus—fix his concussion. Patils—lung and Kidney. Miles—keep check on his vitals.

Severus began muttering a healing incantation, while Pritchard set to heal his most serious injuries.

With all five of them tending to Potter's various injuries and needs, Severus noticed something very peculiar happening around them. First he heard a bizarre creaking which sounded like something was bending. He looked up, and to his horror saw that the walls of the bedroom were bending inwards, with cracks beginning to appear on the plaster and ceiling.

Emily noticed as well. "What—?"

"PROTECT YOURSELVES!" he yelled.

Potter's body arched upwards, his muscles tensed, fingers flexed, eyes rolling in the back of his head as he let out a ghastly, ear splitting scream.

Suddenly, as though releasing his pent up rage, a ball of power burst forth from him, rippling out in an explosion of energy. The walls sprung back, the portraits on the walls fell and broke. The lamp, the overhead light and the windows all shattered, and the fire blew out.

Feeling as though he had been punched by a giant, Severus flew into the air. Everyone ricocheted backwards, landing violently against the walls of the damaged room.

Severus had enough time to witness the boy falling back against the mattress, before blacking out.


	21. The Watch

**The Watch**

A sea of tents stood around a large marquee which housed the injured Ministry employees. Even though it was three in the morning, the screams were horrible as the sounds drifted into the Burrow.

The Order of the Phoenix Headquarters had turned into a refugee camp. Many of the refugees had since been inducted into the group. Others, once recovered, would hide in Europe with their families.

Lily turned to her little family sleeping in her bedroom. She decided to tackle the clean laundry that needed to be ironed, feeling as though she could not get another wink of sleep for the night. Her head was filled with too much worry and fear.

"Mum," Michael croaked, his auburn hair sticking up. "Are you starting your shift soon?"

"No darling, I start at nine."

Her shifts in the marquee looking after the injured were long and arduous. She held the hands of the injured seeking her comfort, administered potions, and helped wash and feed them.

"Go back to sleep." Lily tucked him in and he dozed off.

She checked on Christopher who was snoring and Jessica who slept with her thumb in her mouth. She brushed her daughter's hair through her fingers, pulling out a loose strand. She'll test it in the morning, always hoping the spell would say James is her father.

Suddenly Lily heard shouting and loud banter coming from downstairs. She listened in, and heard hurried footsteps. Then there was a quiet knock on her bedroom door.

"Lily, dear, you're needed." Molly Weasley sounded frantic.

"I'll be right out." She turned to her sleeping children before pulling on a dressing gown as she slipped out.

"What happened? Is Petunia all right? James?"

Molly looked exhausted and frazzled. "Petunia's fine—this isn't about James—Azkaban's fallen and we have more guests."

"Harry?" Lily gasped,

Molly furrowed her brow. "No dear."

Without responding she made her way into the living room. Not a sound stirred in the crowded room as Kingsley and Bill moved to give them space.

There was a group of eighty children of various ages. They stood straight, their hands behind their backs. The boys all had crew-cuts while the girls had their hair up in braided pigtails. They all wore navy jumpers over grey pyjamas.

Minerva and Poppy were taking down their names, asking questions. None were hurt and were in good health, although some carried awful scars.

On the other side of the room, sitting, were Tiberius Ogden, Broderick Bode, Mafalda Hopkirk, Florian Fortescue, and many others, including Gawain Robards—the ex Head of the Auror Department. They were some of the Ministry protesters imprisoned in the Black Square. They were all drinking tea, wearing their soiled grey Azkaban tunics. They were emaciated and their eyes sunken, hair ratty and long, and their faces devoid of any expression.

"Who are these children?" Dedalus whispered.

She noticed that the children all had a dejected, broken look about them which tugged at her heartstrings, however none looked frightened. They weren't children anymore, They were trained soldiers.

"The Conditioned from Azkaban. Atoner Agnes Cotter brought them here," Kingsley answered.

Lily was shocked when she noticed the navy robed Atoner speaking with Dumbledore. Dried blood stuck to her face and she held onto her bloodied shoulder.

The eerie silence was broken when a growing group of grief-stricken parents tried breaking through the guards surrounding the door. Lily was ungraciously shoved forward, smacking into Bill.

"ROBERT?" a woman yelled. "Is Robert here?"

"Ma'am, calm down. We need to identify these children first—"

"THAT'S MY BOY!" The woman pointed to the tall, black teenager in the back row.

The boy craned his head, his brown eyes round like saucers. "M-Mum?"

As though the children had been snapped out of a spell, they started to move, blinking and letting their arms rest by their sides. And just like that, their regimented, stiff movements softened.

"Isabella?" a father said, scanning the children as he pushed through Arthur Weasley's hold on the door. "Izzie?"

"Daddy!" a blonde girl squealed. She was a bout ten years old and she ran, jumping onto her father.

He hugged her so tight, tears spilled from his eyes. "My little girl…" he sobbed, "I thought you were gone forever."

More parents enquired about their missing children. Lily's heart panged for those whose children weren't in this little group.

She couldn't handle the scene any longer. There was enough of the Order in there to sort things out. She walked outside into a quiet patch of the yard, clutching her chest; all the emotions pent up threatened to let loose in a flood of tears and agony. _Harry, where are you?_

"Lily Potter?"

Surprised, Lily looked up and quickly wiped her watery eyes. "I am, yes." She crossed her arms. "Agnes Cotter, I've heard a little about you."

"Dumbledore has spies in every nook and cranny." She held her wounded shoulder tight. Lily knew it needed to be treated straight away.

"Would you like me to help with your injury?"

Agnes nodded, sitting right next to her, looking weary and tired. Cotter was a middle-aged woman with her mousy brown hair. There was a haunted look about her that held dark secrets.

"How did you rescue the children?" Lily carefully checked the injury. A stab wound, she thought. She cleaned the area with a Scourging Charm.

"I was warned of the imminent attack. I was about to escape, but Auror Pickens, told me to take the children to the Order… He couldn't live with himself if the children made it back to You-Know-Who. I travelled through secret passages to the Blue Square. As we Portkeyed, Death Eaters had managed to get in and a dagger struck me."

There were more shouts in the distance. Lily and Agnes looked around, witnessing more parents pushing their way into the Burrow.

When Lily turned back to the Atoner's injury, the witch was staring at her. "Your son's inherited your eyes."

"Harry…" Her chest tightened, "is-is he still alive?"

"I don't know, but I know your husband's safe. He was never kept in Azkaban."

Lily dropped her wand. "M-my husband?"

* * *

The Burrow's kitchen was a buzz with hungry men, boys and a few girls too. They sat at the table wolfing down their breakfast. After seeing her sister, Lily very sleepily, joined the Weasleys and some of the Order for breakfast, before starting her shift. In the back of her mind, constant worry clung on her like a dirty stain. She needed to speak with Dumbledore after learning about her husband and Kingsley spilling the truth to her.

Kingsley, Arthur and Professor Sprout were all whispering. The Weasleys were discussing the attack in Azkaban, while Emmeline and Tonks were chatting about some cute Aurors they saw in the Marquee, as they both tackled their bacon.

Lily stirred a cup of strong coffee and squeezed into a free spot at the table, between her sons. She pulled Jessica onto her lap and buttered some toast her.

"I feel quite lost without the morning paper," Percy mentioned, looking morosely out the window.

"Why? It wa' foo' o' shee' an-way!" Ron blurted, munching on toast.

"RONALD!" his mother yelled, "don't talk with your mouth full!"

Since the Ministry fall, the heavily compromised and biased Daily Prophet had stopped printing as well. It wasn't amiss anyway; the paper was full of rumour mongering with Ministry propaganda. _Fighting and Questioning the Ministry's Tactics Will Incur Severe Punishment... Unforgivables Allowed if Used against Death Eaters..._ And for a decade _, 'The Order of the Phoenix is an EVIL vigilante group'… 'We want unity and loyalty from you. Those who do not agree are our enemies.'_

Kingsley stood up, and Arthur scraped his chair back. The dark Auror placed a gentle hand on Lily's shoulder.

"Come outside, Dumbledore wants to talk to us..."

Lily told the boys to make sure Jessica ate, before stepping onto the Weasley's lopsided porch.

Dumbledore sat on the crooked old bench, feeding a scattering of fat hens some corn kernels. "Good morning. Azkaban is no more—"

"What happened to Harry?" Her voice was on the verge of anger. "And where is my husband?"

"Harry is at Severus's. I have a feeling that you will want to see him, but do not go to Spinners End until I find a suitable disguise for you."

"How long you've known about this Mirror's existence?" Kingsley questioned, he looked torn and just as sour as Lily was. "What about James? What is going on? You owe us an explanation for everything! And no more Confund—"

"I've known about this Mirror boy ever since he set foot into this world."

Lily had to sit down on the porch step and Kingsley paled. "How did you know?"

"As soon as you told me about his scar."

"But my son could've gotten any scar—You can't have realised that quickly—You're hiding something!"

Dumbledore raised his hand. "What I know can compromise the Mirror's existence, so do not ask."

Arthur wiped his sweaty forehead. "The poor boy… Albus, you should have told us, you should've trusted us. Instead you tricked us when we voiced our doubts."

Dumbledore bowed his head. "Perhaps, but the less we knew of him—"

"The less danger he'd be in," Kingsley snorted darkly. "Do you know how ridiculous that sounds? Albus, the boy was put through hell! Now he's recovering in a spy's house, surrounded by Death Eaters. You _made_ us believe he was insane! I think you're the crazy one!"

"Maybe I am. I just want this war over and what I went through at Voldemort's hand, made… made me realise that there is no honourable way to end this," Dumbledore replied softly. He threw more feed at the hens.

"I've put up with your plans for awhile now. I have nightmares after what I've done and seen for you. You can't keep ordering people to sacrifice themselves, and even kill without a proper explanation."

"You're right. I'm sorry I haven't been straightforward—"

"Bit late for that," said Lily.

"We can rectify this. Let us help the boy—help him back home," Kingsley said.

"No. The Mirror is helping us. Our priority is to help Lily's son. He must fight. Mirror Harry will learn and adapt quickly. Nevertheless, there are more friends than enemies residing at Severus's." He wiped his hands clean and looked up.

Kingsley rolled his eyes. "Care to tell us who is really on our side, besides Snape?"

"No—"

"What about James? Don't lie to me again." Lily could've exploded in anger. She really wanted to tell him how she was feeling. How it felt being ripped a part like this.

Dumbledore sighed. "He is well, and will return soon once we switch the boys. He was captured by Grindelwald along with your son. Harry is almost ready. I hope… I hope you will forgive me."

"I'm not the right person you should be asking for forgiveness!"

"Lily, if this Mirror boy had not escaped your basement, things would've panned out differently… He was about to contact me, then your son attacked—"

"Then this boy—this _innocent_ boy ended up in Azkaban and you left him there!" Lily turned around and stormed back into the Burrow.

* * *

Harry woke gasping for air. His heart was threatening to break out of his chest. He scanned his surrounding, blinking away the heavy urge to sleep again, and was determined to see the danger he was in.

Everything seemed different. He lay in a soft bed. He was so comfortable and warm. Blankets and linen were tucked under his chin, crisp and clean. He wriggled his fingers and toes beneath the sheets, though moving them was a mistake and pain shot up and down the lower half of his body.

It didn't look like his dimly lit and damp Azkaban cell. Harry was in a large room with peeling blue wallpaper and a large fireplace. The ceiling was white, the plaster work antique and the furniture was just as old.

Harry was in pain, and he felt weak, shaky, and unable to move. Then there was the occasional involuntary painful twitch which coursed through his muscles from repeated use of the Cruciatus. Harry licked his lips thinking that he could do with a drink of water.

Then, looking over to the right he saw a familiar Gryffindor girl, Parvati Patil sleeping in a plush, blood red armchair. Harry was staring so much that when she opened her large brown almond-shaped eyes she stared right back at him.

"Hi Harry." She flung off her blanket and rubbed her eyes.

He wasn't sure whether to trust her or not. "Er, hi—"

He coughed, his voice was hoarse and it barely came out at all. Breathing hurt and it was wheezy, as though he was suffering from a chest infection.

"You're going to be okay." Parvati sat on the edge of the bed, smoothing away his fringe.

He gripped her hand. "Wh-where am I? What happened?" Harry flinched when she pulled out her wand, muttering a spell. "What are you doing?"

"Just a Pain Relieving Charm... We rescued you and you're recovering at Snape's." She smiled as though this was the best possible outcome for him.

_No way, no fucking way!_ he thought in desperation. He gaped in shock.

"Don't worry, you're _really_ safe. Azkaban fell to the Dark Lord and the Atoners are dead."

Of course he wanted his revenge on the Atoners, but he felt saddened that Agnes Cotter died.

"…Everyone we rescued is recovering here…"

Harry panicked. He definitely didn't want to be in the close vicinity of Death Eaters. It was bad enough he was stuck in Azkaban, barely able to speak with them. Now freed, things were going to be a lot more different. He tried getting out of bed, but blinding pain hit him.

"Let go of me, Parvati! I'm getting out of here," he gritted through the agony.

"Are you insane?" she yelled, trying to prevent him from falling out of bed.

"What's going on here?"

Harry froze. Looking up he saw Snape near the great ornate wardrobe and he was as menacing as ever.

"Sir, he wants to—"

"Stay away from me!" Harry shouted. He tried untangling the blankets around him, but fell, knocking into the bedside cabinet. Potion bottles cascaded onto his head, and the lamp crashed onto the floor. He cried in anguish, his entire body burning in pain.

Snape and Parvati towered over him. His eyes watered, as he felt them grasp his arms, trying to pull him up, but Harry lashed out.

"DON'T YOU DARE TOUCH ME—MURDERER!"

Snape pulled away abruptly as though stung. There was a calculating expression on his face. _"Murderer?"_

"You killed Dumbledore!" Harry was still trying to untangle himself.

Parvati looked confused. "Dumbledore's alive, Harry."

"Patil, leave us," Snape commanded. She obeyed and when the door was shut, he crouched down beside him. "Potter, I don't know what I did in your world, but Dumbledore is alive here and I would never kill him, unless he instructed me to do so."

" _Instructed to?"_ Harry asked. "Wait— _You_ know who I am? Does Voldemort know—?"

"Nobody here, except I, knows who you really are. Now, lie flat, I will help you back into bed." Twirling his wand, the sheets and blankets flew back onto the mattress.

"I can get up myself."

Snape snorted, as though he had just heard the most ridiculous thing in his life. "Foolish pride…"

Cool air rushed over Harry's body. He hovered into the air then gently fell onto the mattress. He felt revulsion that Snape was taking care of him, worse still, that he was trapped in his house.

"It's not pride," Harry said flabbergasted, trying to sit up. But Snape pushed him down hard. "I just don't want _you_ anywhere near me."

"I find the situation just as distasteful as you do."

Snape repaired the broken splint tied to Harry's left hip and leg. Then he threw the bed sheets over him and sat down.

He gazed at Harry, curiosity now on his face. "This house is filled with recovering Death Eaters and the Conditioned. You must pretend that you are your Mirror. Do you understand?"

"Is Parvati a Death Eater?"

Snape sat back, sweeping his hair away from his eyes. "The Patil sisters are. They were abducted after Hogwarts closed and Conditioned by Pritchard. They are quite good at Healing now." Snape took a breath. "I assume you know what this world is like now?"

"I more than know. I've experienced it." Harry grimaced.

"Obviously not the welcoming party you had expected—"

"I didn't come here on purpose! It was an accident."

Snape's look was nothing less than sceptical. "Now listen to me, you may have some… _unwanted_ visitors in the coming days. Play your part well, Potter. Pretend you know them and act like they're friends."

"Voldem—?"

"He'll wait until you've fully recovered. However, I do hope you will have been moved by then. How are you feeling?"

"I'm alive, aren't I?" Harry relaxed. With his good arm, he moved the blankets up over his shoulders, feeling a sudden chill.

"Just barely." Snape leaned forward, his beady black eyes staring. "You were meant to die, Potter… they mutilated you."

Bile crept up his throat. The only reason he didn't was because his Mirror had shared his life. "How long have I been here and when will I recover?"

"You've been unconscious for three days and your fever broke over the night. We've only been able to use spell work and healing incantations due to the nature of your injuries. Once you're able to drink the potions it will speed things up."

"Can't you maybe hurry it up a bit more than that? I can't stay here—"

Snape snorted again. "You're just as idiotic as your counterpart. I was curious, and hoping for a little more of an intelligent Mage, but obviously you are just as dull—"

"I am not a Mage! And you're the same pathetic bully!"

" _Bully?"_ Snape's said quietly, but Harry saw a flicker of annoyance in his eyes. "For the record Potter, you displayed powerful Mage magic when we were tending to your injuries. You destroyed this bedroom—"

"It could've been accidental—"

"No," Snape shook his head, "accidental magic is easily repaired. It took me two days to work out how to repair this room. The magic you used was difficult to erase. It was almost Dark—"

"I am not using Dark magic!" Harry growled.

"Being a Mage doesn't mean you're Dark—you're in fact invoking the ancient magic we wizards have lost through millenniums of interbreeding and blood dilution. It's considered Dark because the majority of wizards don't have this ability and don't understand it. Without restraint it's uncontrollable and destructive." He took a moment to readjust a pillow under Harry's arm. "It's a natural ability just like the other misunderstood ones."

"But what about what happened to Harry?"

"Mages go through phases of magic—Potter, you need to rest—"

"I want to know more."

Snape sighed, taking a moment to check his watch. "The first, is important, it's called the Dark phase. As you freely absorb magic and life, this phase distorts the individual's soul so that it can accommodate their power and open them up to new potentials. People who become Mages through the Dark Arts tend to become evil, enjoying the destruction they have over people. They end up absorbing so much power that they cannot control it and die. After all, the magic is unnatural to their bodies."

"So Harry's is different?"

"Yes. Natural Mages going through the phase don't even use it to harm others, but may experience inner turmoil, evil ideas... They move on, regaining their normal sense of self."

"My Mirror hasn't moved past it." Harry was now fighting the urge to sleep. "And he's killed people… he's enjoyed it."

"His experiences have caused this. Being a Death Eater didn't help him at all. It made it worse, especially since his mentor is Bellatrix." Snape shot up from his chair, startling Harry. "You need rest now. Are you comfortable? Do you need anything?"

Harry nodded, raising his trembling hand to touch his face. "I'm really thirsty."

Snape handed him a glass of water and watched him drink. "How are you feeling now?"

"All right, I think."

"Good. I'll send up your breakfast soon and we'll see how well you can manage food. You can only have clear liquids for a couple of days because of the damage to your bowel. Until your organs can tolerate the magic, we cannot give you potions."

Harry blinked, his eyelids growing heavier.

"Do you remember what they did to you?"

He couldn't remember much past stabbing Brodes and shook his head.

"Do you want me to detail your other injuries?"

"Not now, maybe later."

"Well, let me just tell you the seriousness of your situation, Potter. Besides the overwhelming injuries and infection, many of your fractures are cursed and could not be healed with wand magic. We will need to give you Skele-gro—"

All this information was making Harry's head pound. He just wanted to be healed straight away. "When?"

"As I've said, until you are better. Your back injuries are also cursed."

"Yeah, Cotter said something about that before—"

"That whip the Atoners used had Skin Memory, always lashing on previous wounds to cause more pain and prolong healing. Your Mirror is still recovering from his. Some of your other cuts are cursed as well."

He grimaced. He had suffered many injuries in his own world, but nothing to the extent what he had experienced in this one.

"You'll be pleased to know you'll still be able to sire children in future. However, for the moment you will not be able to— _all_ nature calls will need to be preformed with charms and sitting will be painful for awhile."

Harry squirmed with embarrassment. He tried to lift the bed sheets to see first hand what the Atoners had done to him, but Snape gripped his hand.

"Don't, Potter," he said. "It's not as bad as it looks."

"Just do what you have to!" Harry snapped, angrily, "I just want to get out of this place quickly."

Snape let go, his mouth curving into a malicious smile. "It will be our pleasure."

* * *

He must have fallen asleep again, because when he woke, the room was lighted by the lamp and someone was gently sponging him down with warm water.

"Stop—who are you?"

He might've seen her at Hogwarts before. She held the sponge in her hand with a look of fright in her eyes.

"Emily Miles… May I continue or would you like me to stop?" She soaked the sponge hesitantly. "It's my turn to watch you tonight."

_"Watch?_ You're taking shifts?" Harry tried to move, but gave up. "I'd rather you stop."

The witch nodded, she quickly wiped his chest with a fluffy towel. He looked down, grimacing at the injuries and decided to stare at the ceiling instead.

But he dozed off again, because when he woke Emily had finished his wash and was dressing his injuries.

She kept giving him furtive glances, and then finally she spoke after pinning the last bandage. "Harry, I'm not really Emily Miles. I've Polyjuiced myself to be her…"

He flicked up an eyebrow, quickly eyeing the door, in case he needed to somehow miraculously escape. "Right… care to tell me who you really are then?"

"Your mo—Lily Potter."

Highly vigilant now, Harry tried to sit up, but this was a disastrous move. Every inch of him felt like knives were stabbing him.

He couldn't trust her. She may be pretending to be her, tricking him into giving out information. "Do you know how dangerous—?"

"Yes I know, sweetheart, but Dumbledore and Severus know. The real Emily has gone home. She will reappear an hour after I leave in the morning."

"Right…" was all he could say. It was really disconcerting seeing his Mirror mother as another person.

There was a long pause before Lily spoke again. "I really wanted to see you… I thought you could do with a friendly face around here."

He was concerned that someone would hear their conversation. She seemed to have read his troubled expression.

"It's ok, Harry, Severus has put up many charms around the room."

" _Severus?_ You're on a first name basis with Snape?"

Lily washed her hands in a bowl of water. "I'm judging by your tone, that you've had a difficult relationship with him in your world—"

"Definetely!"

"We do too, but I, ah, I like to call people by their first names."

"Are you a Healer?"

"No, but I have had training over the years…" She poured Harry a glass of orange liquid.

"I want to see you as you, when the Polyjuice wears off," he demanded, as she helped him sip pumpkin juice.

Lily's eyes now flicked hesitantly towards the door. "I will, but only for a minute. But, it'll be another hour before you can see me, and you may be asleep by then."

"Another hour? Hang on, how long does the Polyjuice Potion last in this world?"

The Emily-Lily grinned. "It was for only an hour, until a witch currently in Australia—"

"Wouldn't happen to be Hermione Granger, would it?" He guessed.

Lily looked pleased he knew her as well. "Yes. Well, last year, while at school, a teacher discovered that using kangaroo paws–the plant, not the animal–extended the life of the potion. They must be the red variety and only two paws added to the mixture increased the hours to three."

"I must remember that when I get back," Harry mused.

He did his best not to fall asleep. After dinner arrived, Lily bolted the door and as she fed him chicken broth, then jelly, he noticed her features change. Her curly brown hair grew longer, redder and thinner. Her features became older, Emily's thin lips turned fuller, and her eyes changed. Harry gasped, seeing her bright, green almond-shaped eyes. How he longed to see his mother close like this, alive.

Lily had a gentle heart-warming smile, which made her eyes glow. "How are you feeling?" Her voice was calming, motherly.

She was serene and comforting, almost like an angel.

"Glad to see you."

Harry had the sudden urge to hug her, but resisted. She was still a complete stranger. She may be his Mirror mum, but what he really yearned for was his dead mother.

"I'm, I'm so sorry about all that's happened—"

"Look, Lily—"

"Call me, Mum."

"I wish I could. I wish it so much. But you're not really her and I'm not your son."

She squeezed his hand. "While I didn't give birth to you, you're still my flesh and blood—just from a different place. I'm here for you if you want to talk about anything."

"Lily…" Still, Harry couldn't bring himself to say that word he longed to. "I appreciate your help and everything, but I _really_ don't want to talk about what happened to me. I just need to concentrate on getting better, avoiding Voldemort and getting back home to finish my war."

"Sweetheart, you have to realise that it's not going to be as easy as you say it's going to be. I think the full impact of your ordeal hasn't hit you yet."

"Maybe…" Harry sighed, staring absent-mindedly at the ceiling.

"I've dealt with many tortured and abducted people over the last decade. Many have never come to terms with their suffering. I don't want that to happen to you."

"I've been through a lot in my own world, and I survived without anyone's help."

She looked at him sadly. "But just in case, if you need me, I will be here for you."

Her smile was filled with warmth. Suddenly Harry didn't want her compassion anymore. He knew she was trying all her best to make him feel better, feel like a son. He didn't want that.

"Maybe you should speak to your own son and see what he has to say about his experiences," he retorted, coldly.

A pained expression crossed her face.

He closed his eyes, not wanting to look at her again and fell asleep instantly.

When he woke up, his Mirror mother was nowhere to be found. He looked over to the window and saw a mirror. He groaned in disappointment.

"I really don't want to do this now," he said. The mirror shimmered and with every minute he ignored it, it grew insistently brighter.

Sighing, he gingerly got out of bed, with not an injury in sight. He stared into the mirror. He took a deep breath and stepped through, the bright light on the other side put him off guard.

He was in a beautiful room with paintings adorning the green walls. The portraits were of all pale blonde wizards and witches, but their expressions were cold and sterile. A silver embossed carriage clock chimed above the large fire grate. The red Persian carpet was full of, war scenes. Near the window was a large four poster bed covered with forest green velvet hangings, held back with gold rope. Harry didn't recognise the room, but judging it, he thought he was somewhere in Malfoy's house.

"This is my room," drawled a familiar voice as the door opened. Draco Malfoy entered, followed by Mirror Harry. "The book shelf is over there." Malfoy pointed.

"Right…" The Mirror walked straight over as though he was on a mission to find something.

As Harry followed the fifth year boys, he noticed that they wore their Hogwarts robes. His Mirror gazed at the book titles.

"You won't find it there, Potter," Malfoy said, rolling his eyes. "I'm not stupid to leave it out in the open."

"You sure you're not?"

Malfoy's eyes narrowed to slits. He pushed the Mirror out of the way, pulled out an old tattered copy of, _Hogwarts: A History,_ and opened the cover. He flicked through its pages as he strolled casually over to the bed, and then placed it on the bed.

"Unlock!" he commanded. The book immediately flipped over a few hundred pages until a black rectangle shaped hole appeared. Malfoy placed his arm into the abyss and yanked out the black leather bound diary.

"Is this what you're looking for?" Malfoy asked, waving it around.

Impressed, the Mirror snatched the book and scrutinised it. "How do you know it belonged to Tom Riddle?"

"It told me so," Malfoy replied, walking around him, wary of the book he now held. "I wrote in it, and Tom Riddle wrote back."

"Where did you find it?"

"Christmas of third year, I was bored and I managed to get into this locked room below the drawing room floor… I was looking for treasures and came across it. I didn't think anything of it at first when I saw there was nothing written on its pages... but then I thought, it couldn't _just_ be a normal diary, otherwise Father wouldn't have kept it in that room."

"What did you do after you found it?"

"I just had a bad feeling about it. When the diary wanted me to write anything and everything about myself in it, warning bells rang. Still, I kept it. It's an amazing Dark object. Father would kill me if he found out I've stolen it."

Mirror Harry silently flicked through the empty yellow pages. "Can I have it?"

"Why are you so interested in it?" Malfoy sat casually on his bed, a crease appearing on his brow.

"Do you know who Tom Riddle was and is today?"

Malfoy shook his head. "Why should I care?"

"Riddle is Voldemort…"

The Slytherin seemed sceptical and Harry noticed that the boy did not flinch at Voldemort's name. "Well, if so, what are you going to do with it? Wave it in front of the Dark Lord's noseless face and tell him you know all of his secrets?"

"I just want to examine it, and yeah, find out stuff."

"Why?" Then realisation dawned on Draco Malfoy's pale, pointed face. "You're not just spying are you? Dumbledore's got you up to something!"

Mirror Harry seemed worried and whispered, "If the Dark Lord ever finds out that this book being in my hands, just—!"

"Don't worry, Potter, I'd tell him that while you visited my house you snuck around and stole it."

He laughed. "Well, thanks for betraying me in advance."

"You're welcome," Malfoy said. "Listen, you know how you asked me if there are any Conditioned rebellious against the Dark Lord? We'll I've done some poking around and… have you heard of that missing girl, Emily Miles?"

The Mirror narrowed his eyes with a look of disgust on his face. "Yeah, hasn't Snape got her holed up somewhere?"

"She's okay… I've seen her around. She's older, and almost ready to face the Cliff. I caught her sneaking around here recently when Snape visited. Miles might turn out to be a friendly."

Mirror Harry nodded. "Keep investigating her—"

Suddenly both boys cringed, grasping the tattooed Dark Mark on their arms.

"Come on, Malfoy, we've been summoned. By the way, don't you think you've over did it with the green?"

"Fuck you!" Malfoy spat, though a slight smile played at the corners of his mouth. The boys disappeared out of the bedroom.

Harry looked behind, and saw that the book shelf had turned into a mirror.

The Gryffindor common room was mostly deserted. Harry had a feeling he needed to go up towards the dorm. Midway up, he heard robes rustling behind a statue of a griffin covered in Christmas decorations and hat.

"Harry where are you?" Hermione said, charging up the stairs. "We need to talk."

"No we don't," the Mirror replied from behind the statue.

"You've been avoiding us for weeks!" Hermione crossed her arms, staring at the statue. "Come out."

He squeezed out of his hiding spot and continued up the stairs.

"Harry!" Hermione protested.

"Leave me alone!"

"No, we won't. We want to know what's been happening with you…" She stopped, now whispering. "Ever since Dumbledore's made you to track Malfoy's movements you've changed. You're hanging around him more—"

"Jealous—?"

"—Oh grow up—!" she spat back. "What's happening with the Horcruxes? What else can we help you with?"

"Nothing. Everything is going well."

"Tell me your plans?"

The Mirror stepped back. "Hermione, you need to give me some space."

"This isn't you. This Horcrux hunt and your Mage training's changing you."

"Of course this is me. It was always me. I'm the one who needs to do this or that or save the whole fucking world."

Hermione shook her head. "Are you sick of this?"

"Of course I am. Now leave me alone."

"Then leave." She huffed. "Just leave. Tell Dumbledore that he can destroy the Horcruxes and you can just skip your merry way into a fantasy world filled with happiness."

He laughed. "Hermione—"

"You threatened a fourth year two weeks ago," she said. "He saw you coming in at three in the morning, battered and covered in scratches that looked like they were made by a—"

"A yeti."

"Don't you lie to me!"

"How do you know this anyway?"

"I'm a prefect remember. If anyone sees something suspicious they need to report it, and your entrance was suspicious enough. You've avoided us ever since. Every time Ron and I want to speak to you, you disappear. What _really_ happened two weeks ago?"

"I said, back off, Mudblood!"

Hermione's eyes widened, now it was her turn to take a step back. "You… you don't mean that, Harry."

"Maybe I do—"

"No…" she shook her head. "You've handled the Horcruxes for far too long, you're stuck in this god-awful phase… and you're hanging around Draco too much."

"Yeah," he said, his eyes narrowing to slits, "Maybe I am."

"Are you… are you a Death Eater?" she whispered.

"No. no, I…" And then he seemed to loose his resolve and he slid down the wall. "I'm just… I'm in too far deep, Hermione, with this phase. Too far deep. I just feel like the world is spinning out of control, and I can't stop it. I don't want to do it... I have no choice. I have to do it now… I can't go through it again… I think if I do it, I may tip over. I'm so scared I might like what I do…"

"Do what, Harry? Scared of liking what? Let us help you again, please. _Please."_ She gently touched his shoulder. He yanked her wrist off, and gripped it hard. "Harry you're hurting me—!" she cried.

"Don't talk to me again. This is my fight. My war, so piss off!"

A mirror flashed on the dorm window and Harry left the memory.

This time Harry was in a dark dilapidated room, with ivy and moss growing on the walls. Half the roof had caved in, and rats skidded past.

"Sir?" Mirror Harry said.

Harry turned around and found his fourteen year old Mirror right beside Dumbledore. The old wizard was looking at a small object he cradled in the palm of his hand. His eyes feasted on it. It was a ring with a black stone on it: Peverell's ring.

"Yes?" Dumbledore's fingers trembled as he now held the ring in his fingers, turning it. The light of the boy's ignited wand sparkled against the stone.

"Sir…" He placed his hand gently on Dumbledore's wrist. His eyes were wide with concern. "Don't put it on. There's strong Dark magic surrounding it."

"But I must know…"

"Know what? It's a Horcrux. I know and you know it, what else is there to find out?"

"I need to know if this is the Resurrection Stone. I need to know…" Dumbledore slowly guided the ring towards his finger.

"The Ressur—? A Deathly Hallow?" Mirror Harry flung the ring away from Dumbledore; it arched gracefully through the air, bouncing off the wall.

"HARRY!" Dumbledore yelled, smacking the Mirror across the face. The boy fell back stunned. Two pigeons nesting near by, flew off, frightened.

"SIR, DON'T—IT'S CURSED!" He yelled as Dumbledore picked the ring up. " _ACCIO_ RING!"

The boy caught the ring effortlessly. Dumbledore growled angrily, and was about to charge at him, but as he placed the ring into his pocket Dumbledore faltered, closing his eyes briefly.

"What—? Harry, I'm so sorry—the ring— I had the strong urge— it did not want you to?" He looked at the boy in horror. "Harry, what have I done to you?"

Mirror wiped the blood away from his split lip. "Don't worry... The curse Voldemort put on the ring didn't have the effect on me because I've had nobody I know die. I'm sure there would've been another curse on it if you put it on."

"Thank you. I would've died..." Dumbledore helped him up, healed his cut lip and they left the house together.

Harry turned around and saw another mirror. He took another moment to look at Marvolo Gaunt's abandoned hut. He wondered if his Dumbledore had told him sooner about the Horcruxes if he'd still be alive today.

So the ring was definitely a Deathly Hallow. But as Harry blinked at his own reflection in the mirror, it felt as though his curiosity had died in Azkaban. It was exhausting wondering about things now. He felt as though he never wanted to investigate anything ever again, yet here he was, in his Mirror's mind, investigating.

Through the mirror, Harry found a very pale and gaunt Mirror Harry holding a broken blue teddy bear with a red ribbon around its neck. He stood in Dumbledore's office in front of his desk, swaying, looking very battered.

Dumbledore was writing a letter and did not greet him. "You arrived three weeks late for the new term, Harry. Your friends were concerned, and Draco had not known your whereabouts."

Mirror Harry cleared his throat. "This is the last Horcrux the Dark Lord made…" He threw the teddy bear right into the middle of Dumbledore's letter.

"You mean," the headmaster looked up now, peering at the boy above his glasses, " _Voldemort."_

The Mirror didn't respond as Dumbledore scrutinised the toy.

"So is this Neville Longbottom's teddy bear?"

Mirror Harry nodded, his ratty hair wet against his face. He fell back into the chair, exhausted.

"Christmas day, I went to the Longbottom's house to explore—"

"You didn't bother joining your family for Christmas lunch."

"Well I had this feeling, a hunch, and I couldn't wait. I thought since Neville was a part of the prophecy the Dark Lord would've found the connection personal and made a Horcrux when he murdered the family."

"Did you find it there?"

"No, but it sent me on a wild goose chase into Europe."

"Excellent work!"

Dumbledore continued to examine the toy. The Horcrux had already been destroyed. The stuffing hung out of his body and it was singed where it was ripped almost in two. "Where was it? Are you hurt? You don't look well."

Mirror Harry opened his eyes weakly. "The Horcrux was in a Vampire's lair."

"I think you need a few nights in the Hospital wing then," Dumbledore said as he dipped his quill into ink and continued writing. "I trust you haven't been _contaminated_?" The boy shook his head, and Harry saw Dumbledore visibly relax. "Good."

The Mirror stifled a yawn. "Sir, Peter came to my house on Christmas Eve… You know, he's still recovering from his wounds Greyback gave him. Remus is trying to help him, but Peter's refusing everyone's help. Anyway, I wanted to tell you that he found something that he wants me and Charlie to investigate. Apparently there's some stupid myth it cures werewolf bites, but there's something definitely Dark about it."

Dumbledore frowned. "I can assure you there is no werewolf cure. I must reiterate this to Peter when I next see him."

"I think there's more to this thing. It looks weird, like a piece of shrivelled something, all black and sharp looking. And when I touched it by accident, I felt something making me relive—"

"Harry! You must concentrate on the cup, and the locket—"

"But the thing is called—"

"The Horcruxes! The quicker they are destroyed, the quicker this war will end. Everything else means nothing to us."

It was as though Dumbledore wasn't interested in whatever his Mirror had to say that didn't involve Horcruxes. Harry felt his Mirror's disappointment.

"There is a cup in the Lestranges vault in Gringotts. Bellatrix mentioned that Voldemort had entrusted her with this."

"Did she now? When did she tell you? Why has it taken this long for you to tell me?"

"I used… other abilities to coax it out of her…" he replied. His face was devoid of emotion. "I did a detour before coming back to Hogwarts, and got the information out of her."

Dumbledore looked mortified. "Harry—"

"You told me to play my part, and I've used it to my advantage over my Mentor."

Harry was disgusted.

Dumbledore seemed concerned now. "Don't worry about the cup for now. That shall be the last one tackled because of its logistics... try to act only like a loyal puppy, nothing more. And you mustn't concern yourself over werewolf cures."

The boy still looked torn. "Sir—"

"Go, and be careful, Bellatrix likes to play dangerously. She can be just as manipulative. One wrong move and she will make you pay dearly."

Mirror Harry smirked. "Lately, I like living dangerously."

"I've noticed." Dumbledore stared gravely at him, with his quill hovering over the ink well. "I've also noticed the amount of torture you've inflicted as well."

"All part of playing the double agent."

Harry could tell by the scathing look on Dumbledore's face that he was beginning to doubt him.

"I can't kill yet, though… and I've paid dearly for that."

"Care to elaborate?"

The boy shook his head, and Dumbledore grimaced. "At least tell your friends—"

"NO!"

Dumbledore inhaled deeply and inked the quill again. "While I am pleased that you have failed to kill… when you are absent searching for Horcruxes, you are still capturing Muggle-borns. I told you to avoid—"

"You think it's easy, sir? I need to keep doing what Bellatrix has instructed me to do. Bella, Voldemort and the Conditioned watching me at Hogwarts think I'm absent because I'm eager to find Muggle-borns and rise above my rank."

Harry could tell Dumbledore was not swayed from the doubt.

On the closet, that usually housed Dumbledore's Pensieve, a mirror shone. Harry walked through.

He knew it in his heart where one of the Horcruxes was: Gringotts.

In a familiar cave filled with water, Harry stood on a large rock, with a cistern filled with a greenish hue. A goblet lay forgotten on the ground. Malfoy was holding Mirror Harry in his arms; a long gold chain peeked out of his fist. Malfoy had the locket.

"Harry, are you all right? Speak to me." Malfoy shook him hard, his blonde hair cascading over his eyes.

His eyes fluttered open. "M'fine… really thirsty."

"We have to get of this place before I get you water. I've tried to charm it, but the Inferi in the water attacked me."

The boy laughed. Malfoy gasped when he sat up, pushing him away.

"I'm fine. Give me the locket." He looked at it and groaned when he opened the locket easily. He shoved it back into Malfoy's hands. "That was a waste of time!"

"Why do you—?"

Harry looked over Malfoy's shoulder as he pulled out a small yellowed piece of parchment. He read it out for Mirror Harry to hear, then, "Who the hell is R.A.B?"

The Mirror sighed, swaying. "Someone who wanted to screw the Dark Lord over… I just hope he destroyed it."

"But, do you think he or she did?"

"I don't know. I'm still going to look for it."

"Maybe there's another one at Hogwarts," Malfoy said out loud as he helped him to stand.

"Only the diadem was in the Room of Requirement. Believe me, I checked Hogwarts twice in fourth year."

Harry's heart fluttered. _YES!_ He thought.

Mirror Harry pulled himself up with the aid of the cistern. "Draco, I haven't told you this, but the cup is in your Aunt's vault. I know this as a fact. As for the locket..."

"I could help you with that. I've been in that vault—!"

"No way!" Mirror Harry yelled, his words echoing in the cave. "I can't put you in further danger. Once the cup is taken _he_ will know, and I will have to fight him after. I'll need to wait for Dumbledore and the Order when they're ready to fight."

The memory was over, and Harry returned back into Snape's spare bedroom.

 


	22. The Mentor

**The Mentor**

It was a new day and Harry was woken up early that morning by Dimples, Snape's house elf. She carried a tray of food: strained oats, tea and orange juice with shaking hands and deposited it next to the bed.

Harry remembered the night before and hoped to find Lily still in the room and apologise for his behaviour, but she was gone. Her watch had ended. Instead, Draco Malfoy had taken over and he sat in that armchair, flicking through a book, looking bored.

"Morning," the boy greeted.

"Er…"

Harry's mind was a bit fuzzy, before he remembered that his Mirror was friends with Malfoy. Dimples propped him up with a few more pillows and began spoon feeding him jelly. He pushed the elf away, determined to feed himself, but he felt horrible for doing it. He almost apologised to her, but thought Malfoy would find that shifty.

"Is it your turn to watch me?"

"Yes and it's such a bore watching you sleep. I mean what are you going to do, thrash around and start cursing people? Although, that would've been a bit more entertaining..."

"Well I'm glad I didn't," Harry said, drinking his juice. "Were you in the rescue mission?"

"Yeah. My aunt's furious that Snape was picked to head it—By the way, she still hasn't forgiven you."

Harry's insides squirmed and he remembered Ashley and Tony.

"You seem different," Malfoy pondered out loud. He was inspecting Harry, and he suddenly felt very vulnerable.

He looked away quickly, pulling his blankets over his shoulders. "How so?"

"I don't know… there's just something I can't quite put my finger on… your tone… your mood."

"Mal— _Draco_ , I've just spent a… a year in prison," he lied. "I think that's enough to change anyone's perspective in life."

Malfoy shrugged. "I s'pose so. But still—"

"Would you mind getting me another blanket?" Harry quickly changed the subject. Malfoy scrounged around in a cupboard, finding one and spread it over the bed.

"Can you maybe close the curtains a bit, and some water would be great, thanks." Harry thought it felt great ordering Malfoy around.

"Merlin, you're a pain in the ass!" he snipped, as he handed Harry a glass of water.

"I want to sleep now." Harry didn't want to talk anymore. Just speaking with Malfoy on friendly terms was making his skin crawl.

* * *

The Death Eater Healer, Sigmus Pritchard, came the next day. Harry was washed, and every inch of him examined; externally and internally. Still, it was less humiliating than Azkaban as Snape watched with a sneer on his face, and the Patil twins quietly observed.

The Healer felt his abdomen. "Any pain?"

"Not much…"

"Good, we'll begin administering the potions. Only one mouthful of each for now, then we will repeat the process every two hours."

Then Snape carefully measured the green thick liquid which Harry remembered as Skele-gro.

"We will see how this pans out. It should heal you—"

"It should?" Harry raised his eyebrows at the Healer.

"The fractures are cursed, Potter. If Skele-gro doesn't work, we'll need to remove the bones. If that doesn't work, then you'll have trouble walking for good."

"Don't worry, you'll be fine," Snape whispered as he handed Harry the goblet.

He cringed at the taste of the potion. He remembered well, what removing bones felt like in second year when Gilderoy Lockhart tried to heal his broken arm, and wasn't looking forward to a night of pain.

"How do you feel?" Pritchard asked. There was a slight twitch in his cheek now, and sweat was beading on his bald head.

Harry's stomach grumbled and gurgled, then the cramping began. "Er, I don't think I can handle anymore of that stuff." He fought the urge to throw up.

"Stay with him today," Pritchard warned. Snape nodded as he poured another potion into a clean cup.

Harry was made to drink several others, even though he protested that he didn't want anymore. He drank a Blood Replenishing Potion, Nutrient Potion, Liver Healing Concoction. He drank potions to repair his bowel and internal infection, and so many others, that if there was a potion that would transport him back to his own world, he would've gladly drunk that one.

He wasn't feeling the best after that. He fell into an uneasy sleep, waking every hour or so, fevered, asking for water as he trembled. Every two hours he was made to drink the potions again. After repeating the process three times, Harry became very itchy. Then with each hour the itch grew more intense, until he was quite waspish to Snape.

The Death Eater always stared back, silently.

By midnight, Harry couldn't drink anymore of them and the itch was almost as bad as torture. The Patil twins had to cool him down with ice and rubbed a Calming Salve on his skin to reduce the itch.

The next morning, he was stiff and there was a prickling sensation in his broken bones as though needles were piercing him.

Pritchard tested Harry's bones and joints. He bent his knees, which had been perfectly healed. His pelvis and hip joint weren't as good. Pritchard prodded the bones, bent his left leg up and swivelled it. Harry bit his fist not to scream out. He yelped as Snape made him sit up. In the end, Pritchard wasn't overly enthused with the results.

"A little more Skele-gro, Potter. However, since you had an awful reaction to the potions, I won't give them for another two days."

"What about Muggle medicine?" Harry asked innocently. "There are all sorts of drugs that you could—"

"I do not use healing methods that belong to the inferior beings of our species! Muggle techniques are barbaric and primitive." Pritchard looked outraged at such a suggestion.

Harry didn't dare suggest anything after that. He just did what he was told to do.

* * *

He slept most the time now, only waking for food and when the Healer ran an Observations Charm over his body. Padma and Parvati always watched on, writing down the results.

Two days later, the Death Eaters felt that Harry could handle all the potions better. Pritchard handed him a goblet full of the Skele-gro. "If you're not healed by tomorrow, I will remove the bones."

"Great!" Harry responded sarcastically. He sighed and forced himself to drink. He lay back carefully as to not aggravate the wounds on his back and wished the awful taste of the potion would wash away.

He wasn't hungry, but Snape made him eat.

He was slowly gaining weight and felt more energised. The Nutrient Potion filled his body with all he needed to recuperate. With every goblet full, he gained a few pounds.

Harry slurped his tea loudly just to annoy the Death Eater who rarely spoke, and it was quite disconcerting. He would rather have Snape snidely remark something than have him staring quietly.

"Would you mind if I ate in peace?" Harry asked as he tackled the porridge on his tray.

"Yes. I wouldn't want you to choke to death, after wasting so much time nursing you back to health."

Perhaps he liked Snape better when he didn't talk, after all.

"Lily wants to see you again."

"No. Too dangerous." Harry stopped eating to scratch his neck.

"I told her much the same. The Dark Lord wants you guarded day and night. So once you're well enough, I don't want you walking out of this room without me accompanying you."

"Why does Voldemort want me guarded?"

Snape drummed his fingers on his armchair. "I think he's worried that you may fall into Grindelwald's hands… which your Mirror has." His black eyes twinkled.

Harry regarded Snape carefully, placing the spoon down into the bowl. "So you're still working for Dumbledore?"

"I have been for over eighteen years. Keep your Occlumency high at all times, Potter. You are rather good, but I am better."

_Rather good at Occlumency_? That was a surprise. "Do you reckon, these skills I've gained here, will continue when I get back home?"

"I'm not sure… Maybe, maybe not. But since you've stimulated your Mage ability, there may be no turning back now."

Harry really didn't want this Mage power. But Occlumency would help. He was just happy being his regular self.

Snape stood up and gazed out of the window.

"What will happen to me next?"

"We hope to move you to a safer location before or after St Mungo's takeover."

"Why would St Mungo's be taken over?"

Snape turned his head a little before he spoke. "The Dark Lord needs Healers and the hospital under his control."

"Then what?" Harry sipped his tea.

"Gringotts—the second last hurdle."

The logistics of that would be a nightmare, Harry thought. If Voldemort succeeded, then, he would hold the gold at ransom, forcing people to his side.

"Finally, he would have to destroy the Order and Grindelwald…." Harry remarked. Snape nodded in silence.

Harry lost interest in his breakfast. He really needed to stop worrying about a war he didn't want to be a part of.

* * *

Malfoy kept watch that morning. Zabini took over that afternoon, while that evening, the real Emily Miles came in. She was quiet, demure, never uttering a word, occasionally giving Harry a small scowl, but nothing more.

Then when Harry slept that evening, a mirror appeared. He groaned, growing angry at the connection now.

Walking through, he found himself in Grimmauld Place, following his stealthy fifteen year old Mirror up the stairs. The boy looked around, but the house was dark and empty. His Mirror tiptoed into Regulus Black's room and ransacked the room. He shredded pillows and the mattress apart looking, for what Harry guessed was Slytherin's locket.

The Mirror sighed impatiently. " _Accio_ Locket." Nothing zoomed into his outstretched hand.

However, they both heard a rattling noise that seemed to be coming from the up turned chest of drawers. The Mirror found the source of the noise coming from a locked leather box, trapped under the drawers. The lock was broken and inside, the locket was freed, landing in the boy's open palm.

He examined it between his fingers and smiled. "I'm going to destroy you…" He shoved it into his pocket and Disapparated.

* * *

Pritchard tested Harry's healing progress after lunch.

"Much better, Potter… Another goblet of Skele-gro and tomorrow we'll help you stand."

By the next morning, with Snape's help, Harry could sit up in bed. His tail bone was healed and his hip and leg almost new. However, he could only sit for a couple of minutes as it caused him excruciating pain, but this was caused by his other injuries. The Atoners didn't restrain themselves torturing him, cutting and bruising him in his most hidden and private of places. It was an act of brutal humiliation for defying the Atoners. He was so incensed that just thinking about it made the light bulbs in the room explode.

"Watch your magic, Potter," Snape said, gripping him so he didn't fall.

Harry shakily stood with their support. Walking was stiff and sore, but he felt better and that's all that mattered.

They helped him into the en suite bathroom, where the Patil twins were running a hot, green bubble bath for him. Padma left with Pritchard and Snape, so Harry sat down on a stool, face to face with Parvati.

"I've added a neat little charm to the water. Your bandages and dressing will vanish in the bath." She tested the water and looked at him expectantly, as the green steam rose around them.

"Right…"

"Well? Are you gonna' get in?"

"Er…"

"Since when have you been shy around me?" Parvati rolled her eyes.

Defeated, he shrugged off the dressing gown and Parvati helped him in. Harry could smell the dittany, murtlap and aloe vera rising with the steam.

It felt like heaven. His aches drifted away just like the bandages and dressings melting off his body. Harry rested his head against the tub and just dozed off in warmth and serenity.

Then, wrapped up in a towel, he sat in front of the bathroom mirror as Parvati helped shave his fuzzy beard, cut his hair and cleaned his nails. She rested her hands gently on his shoulders and smiled.

He checked his bruised and battered reflection and was amazed at the difference. He had put on ten pounds. He looked younger without that silly beard and long hair. His lightning bolt scar was bright, reminding him of the nightmarish predicament he had landed himself in, since that fateful night on Halloween.

Then he stared past his features and his injuries, and just looked at himself.

He had a sinking feeling envelop him, clutching his chest like a clawed hand. Yes he recognised himself, but Harry wasn't Harry anymore. He felt as though he was now staring at a stranger. There was bleakness to him that he could not shake, a black hole waiting to destroy everything he once held dear in a world surrounded by death, war and turmoil. He scowled and looked away.

By the time he was snuggled up in bed, he felt warm and fresh and his body felt lighter with less cumbersome bandages, and that uncomfortable splint on his leg. He fell asleep instantly, only waking for dinner and in time to see the real Emily start her watch.

Though, Harry didn't sleep for long after that. At ten o'clock, there was a knock on the door. Emily opened it and was pushed unceremoniously out of the way. Bellatrix Lestrange walked in, with Snape on toe.

Harry's heart almost stopped. How the hell was he going to get out of this little situation?

"Bella, he's critically ill. He needs rest and careful nursing—"

"Don't you think I know that, _Sev_?" she snapped.

Snape looked darkly at Harry. "Then leave at once!"

The witch smirked and her hooded eyes narrowed. "No, I won't. Have you forgotten that I'm his Mentor, not you? Leave Severus—you too, Miles."

Snape scowled. "Don't aggravate his injuries."

Bellatrix slammed the door shut with a casual flick of her wrist.

Harry had no weapon, no wand to protect himself with, just his unwanted, burgeoning Mage power.

The bedroom was bathed in silence. She stood near the doorway glaring at him, breathing deeply, her wand held in her hand. Her black robes, tight around her figure were cinched at her waist with a silver skull. She walked slowly around the bed, never once taking her eyes off him, nor did Harry take his eyes off her. He was like a trapped mouse and she was the cat ready to pounce.

"Evening, Potter." Fingers grazed the blankets as she moved to Harry's side. "It's been a while since you ran off with my little ones."

She ripped his bed sheets away and straddled Harry before he had the chance to move away. The bed dipped under her weight and his hip pulsed in pain.

"Get off!" He cringed, grasping her arms in a futile effort to push her off. But she was stronger, healthier and very determined to torment him.

"What the hell have you done with the Pettigrew children?" She jabbed her wand under his chin.

"I got them far away from you!"

"WHERE?"

"They're in a Muggle institution—under different appearances—waiting for me to get them and continue their conditioning," he lied.

"Why did you want them, Potter?"

"To piss you off."

She smirked as he the wand suddenly cut into his neck. "You've done that perfectly well. You're lucky I'm not allowed to execute you."

Her cold eyes shone bright with excitement as Harry desperately tried to squirm away from her. But she merely licked her lips as her long nails scraped down his chest, stinging his undressed wounds. "All skin and bones Potter… regretfully bare… I do like my men with chest hair."

"Well, I apologise if I don't fit your criteria!" Harry growled. He gripped her wrists, but it failed to stop her progressing downwards.

Alarmed, he tried to push her off as her fingers went further down. Bellatrix leaned down, her long black hair tickling Harry's cheek.

He stared into her soulless grey eyes. "Get off me."

"I always like a challenge. After all, you thought I was when you needed my secret."

"I said. Get. Off!"

"I heard you the first time, but what makes you think I will?"

"I'll fight you—!"

"In your condition?" She laughed. "You owe me, Potter. You stole my children and my secret. I want to see you beg or your life in the Great Hall…"

Her hand slithered between his legs, making Harry yell in agony when she tormented his injuries there. But she clapped her other hand over his mouth. Harry squeezed his eyes shut burning in pain, and heard the Death Eater whispering.

"Don't scream now, otherwise Severus will wonder what we're up to."

" _Fuck you_!" he spat. He tried to kick her off with his good leg.

"Well that's what _we_ intend to do!" Bellatrix chuckled not deterred. "Although considering the nature of your injuries, I'm not sure you'll be able to, ah… _preform_."

Then she tried to kiss him. Harry attempted to push her away, but he was still very weak. _Pathetic,_ he thought lazily. He turned his head away from her.

Bellatrix pulled away, straight backed. She looked down at him with a furrow between her brows. "What's gotten into you, Potter?"

"I don't want you!"

"Really now?" She leaned down again, breathing shallowly as she looked straight into his eyes. "Do you prefer it like a dog now, bent over? I can do that to you, if you wish it—"

"GET OFF!" Harry roared and a ripple of his magic jolted the charms surrounding the room, removing some.

"Is everything all right in there?" Yaxley called from outside the door. He must have been guarding the bedroom.

"HEL—!"

Bellatrix's hand clapped over his mouth again.

"Everything's perfectly peachy in here!" Bella shrilled loudly. Then she whispered, "Perhaps you want to be a _man_ again…" She let go of him, raising her hands to begin unbuttoning her dress. "Go on, dear, _be_ a man!

Using every ounce of energy he could gather, he grabbed the Death Eater and flipped her over, so that now he was the one pinning her to the bed. Bellatrix's long black hair tangled around, masking her face like a black veil. She laughed, resting her head on the pillow. Harry held both her wrists above her head.

He looked down at her, trying to ignore the pain he felt in his hip, now making him light-headed. He scraped the hair away from her face. She stopped laughing, now breathing hard, preparing for what he'd do next. _What the hell was he doing?_

"Kiss me," she purred.

He kissed her, hard and brutal, feeling her fingernails gouging the back of his neck in response.

Pulling away for a mere second, he heard her say, "good."

And Harry had to admit it did feel good, because he now held the power and relished in it, something which had been stolen away from him every time the Atoners, pinned him down.

_What the hell?_ He pulled back suddenly in shock, suddenly disgusted. Bellatrix looked disappointed.

"Always a tease…" she exasperated.

_Sirius falling gracefully through the veil… the Pettigrew children… the Longbottoms… Ginny…_

Harry rested both hands against the sides of her head, like a vice. It felt so right.

"Potter, what are you—?"

Bellatrix screamed and he felt her power rushing into his veins like water from a burst drain. He felt her exhilaration as she tortured and murdered people. Her power was black... Dark… Harry felt her passion and fervour for the purebloods. He felt her excitement at the thought of using her knife and the blood that stained it…

"STOP IT!" She thrashed about, trying to yank his hands away—to curse him. Harry flung her wand across the room with just a thought.

"POTTER—NO!" someone yelled.

Harry was thrown off the bed and hit the floor hard, and yelled as blinding pain flared in his hip again. Looking up, Snape was glaring at him, anger and concern showing on his face. He was checking over Bellatrix, who now was very still. Her arm hung limply over the side of the bed.

Behind Snape, Yaxley, who usually had very blunt features and never showed emotions during their time in the Black Square was roaring with laughter, so much so, he had to sit down to regather his energy.

Harry panted, still feeling the after-effects of the Bellatrix's power tingling in his body. "Is she dead?" His heart was pounding, and his body was covered in a cold sweat. He tried to sit up, but he found it a struggle.

"No." Snape shook his head. "Fergus, take Bella downstairs, put her on the couch and call in Pritchard."

Yaxley picked the witch up, laying her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. He looked over to Harry and gave him a hearty wink before he left the bedroom, chuckling to himself.

"Potter!"

Harry jumped at the voice. He was feeling very tired and sleepy. When he was pulled upm he swayed on the spot and pain seared in his hip. Then his leg gave way and the world around him swirled precariously.

Harry retched.

"I need to contact Dumbledore. What you did jeopardised your existence here. Bellatrix will want you punished, and I am sure the Dark Lord will—After all, attacking a Superior Death Eater is a serious crime. You are running out of lives here."

Shivering, Harry laughed. "I've been running out of lives ever since I was a baby."

He didn't have time to sit as Snape steered him towards the bed. He trembled, the world still turning, feeling light-headed, his heart beat drumming in his ears. His muscles became limp. Harry slumped onto Snape and his world turned black.


	23. The Switch

**The Switch**

After bolting the bedroom door shut, Severus rummaged through a drawer, finding parchment and quickly briefed Dumbledore what had occurred.

Creating a circular pattern with his wand, the note which lay innocently in the palm of his hand was bathed in a white light. It fluttered and began disintegrating, as flames burnt it. The burning ashes floated above him, disappearing.

Severus's attention turned to Potter who lay limply in bed, breathing shallowly. There would be severe consequences for the real Potter, if this wasn't smoothed over. But he didn't have time to dwell on that.

There was a crack in the air. From the corner of his eye he saw a burning note flutter down. He swept it off the floor and read it.

_Prepare the Floo._

Hidden in a drawer was a box of Floo powder and he threw a handful of it into the fire. He waited expectantly, and with a bit of trepidation who would come out of the grate.

Severus saw a man materialise when the purple flames came to life. He narrowed his eyes and curled his hands into tight fists. He couldn't believe Dumbledore sent _him_.

"So stubborn, even death can't claim you," Severus scowled, eye to eye with James Potter. The wizard brushed the ashes off his cloak.

He was a foot taller than Potter, and it felt good to be staring down at the man he hated since he was eleven. Granted, the wizard who had been missing looked like a changed man, thinner, wearier and perhaps even wiser.

"This isn't the time to be firing insults, _Snivellus!_ "

"Just get the Mirror out!"

Potter gasped seeing his Mirror son. He bumped past Severus and knelt down by the bed. He fell quiet, stroking back his Mirror son's hair.

"Harry, can you hear me?" he whispered. "Harry—Merlin—what the hell did you do to him, Snape?" he roared.

"Do not accuse me of—"

Purple flames roared high once more. From within the fire, Severus saw a bundle of blankets covering a still body.

"Potter, stop dawdling—just go and let me deal with your son!" Severus hovered the body to the bed, as James lifted his Mirror son carefully into his arms.

Severus started removing the boy's clothes.

"Snape what the hell—what are you doing with my son?"

"I will need to place a strong Glamour Charm, and perhaps reopen some of his old wounds—his injuries will need to match his Mirror's—"

"You can't be serious?" Potter asked grimly.

The Mirror boy groaned in his arms, making him reassess the situation. Severus could almost hear the rusty cogs of James Potter's mind turning: should he worry about his real son or the Mirror?

Severus sighed, thinking that some people were just so stupid they ought to be put out of their misery. "Healer Pritchard will know something was amiss. He has detailed all of the Mirror's injuries. He'll be alarmed if he finds nothing but scars, and wounds in the wrong places."

"This is insane—"

"Stop talking and get out of my house!"

* * *

Harry slowly woke from his sleep. He dreamt of nothing and he was glad there was no connection. He heard the soft clinking of glass. Potion bottles, he thought. He could also hear the rumble of thunder outside, threatening and foreboding.

Harry opened his eyes. He lay straight on his right side and someone was gently dabbing a soothing substance on the lacerations on his back and buttocks.

Slowly taking in his surroundings, Harry noticed the bedroom looked different. It was smaller and more homely than Snape's. The walls were painted in yellow and posters of Holly Harper Quidditch team lined the wall next to the window. Ginny's favourite team he thought vaguely.

He sighed, rubbing his eyes, making the person behind him stop tending to his wounds. There was a rustling of robes and a moment later he saw a familiar face swim into his line of sight.

"Potter…" Agnes Cotter whispered.

It took a moment for Harry to realise this and when he did he shot up, confused and scared. White, blinding pain hit him with full force.

"You're dead! Azkaban? I'm still in Azkaban!" He fell back into bed, writhing in agony. His chest tightened and he felt sick all of a sudden _. Please, please don't let me be back there._

"It's all right. You're not there." Her hands touched his shoulders, squeezing them in reassurance.

"But—?"

"Look at me—look around you. I am not wearing my Atoner robes and you're not in your cell."

Harry took in a deep breath, calming down. Cotter was wearing purple robes, fastened to her waist with a gold chain, and she wore a black high collared dress underneath.

There were two beds in the room. The other had a blue and white polka dot quilt over it, while his own was its yellow version. It looked more like it belonged to two teenagers.

"Where am I?"

"At Remus Lupin's... They moved you from Snape's house after the, ah, little incident. I think this is where they'll keep you until you're well enough to go home."

"But what about—that would ruin everything—Dumbledore's plan—?"

"They've done the switch." She straightened up and sat on the edge of the bed.

"So my Mirror is at Snape's house now?"

She nodded. "Now, I've examined you, and I must say the Death Eaters have looked after you well. There isn't much I wouldn't have done differently, than perhaps, stall the administration of the potions a little longer. My observations tell me your body is struggling with the all magic and potions you have been given. You break out in fever and an itch."

"I felt really sick after taking them." Now thinking about it, he realised he was scratching his arms absent-mindedly.

"Once I've dressed your back, I'll need to remove your left hip and femur… you've refractured them."

"What curse did the Atoner use?"

"There's several bone breaking curses. Yours would've always been unstable due to _Osxterminata_ Curse Meryn liked to use. I'll give you the Skele-gro in conjunction with the Osregeneratem spell."

"Will it work?"

"Perfectly, but you'll need a cane for awhile."

"How come that Death Eater Healer didn't use that Osregena-whatever-it's-called spell?"

"Pritchard didn't know. Generally speaking, when there is no knowledge of the curses involved, a _Finite Incantatem_ is used. Sometimes the spell works, and sometimes it only lessens the effects of the curse. He did the best under the circumstances."

Harry knew he was in capable hands, and he much rather have the Atoner look after him than a Death Eater.

"I will forego giving you the other potions for now. I'll be using a few Muggle remedies; they would be much less volatile on your body."

"Pritchard didn't want to use Muggle medicine. He felt it was beneath him." Harry yawned. Sleep tugged at his eyes again.

"He's a Death Eater, Potter… he has several Muggle-born slaves which he preforms experiments on."

He grimaced. Now he wanted to know more about what had happened to Bellatrix. How the switch was made and if his Mirror was now awake. "James… I remember… I heard James—"

"You need to rest now. Absorbing Bellatrix's power has affected you. Besides, I need to finish treating your wounds. I'll wake you when you need to drink the Skele-gro."

He was growing ever sleepier.

There was a knock at the door and a concerned voice. Harry saw Remus Lupin's figure swim in front of him, while James Potter stood hesitantly at the doorway. He wanted to speak with them, but Harry couldn't stay awake any longer.

* * *

"PLEASE, DON'T—DO WHATEVER YOU CAN—I don't want my wand arm taken off. It's getting better!"

Lily closed the white curtains, so that the other injured could not see and silenced the area.

_"Shhhh…"_ she stroked back the injured Ministry worker's hair, but the wizard struggled against her. Two Healers, Fiona Marcs and George Oaks prepared to amputate the gangrenous limb.

"You can't." The wizard's blue eyes pleaded. He was shivering and burning with a fever. "It's getting better. YOU ALL SAID IT'LL GET BETTER."

"Thomas, it's going to be all right—"

"MAGIC IS SUPPOSED TO FIX IT ALL!" The wizard thrashed around, trying to escape them.

Lily looked him sadly and knew that magic can also destroy just as easily as it could fix things.

Healer Oaks moved a potion to the wizard's lips. His white hair was frazzled and he looked exhausted. The goblet was almost knocked out of his hands, but half its contents hit the ground as Thomas smacked, and kicked the tending Healers.

Healer Oaks wiped the blue potion from his face. "Thomas, drink this… it will help your arm. It really will. And when you wake in the morning, your arm will be as good as new."

"It-It will?"

The Healer nodded, smiling. "But you need to calm down first, and drink… In a month you'll be able to continue making those beautiful sculptures you love to create…"

Thomas trembled and drank the potion. He fell back in a calmer state and was asleep within seconds.

"Right," Healer Oaks huffed, pulling his robe sleeves back up, "let's get rid of this arm."

Lily sterilised the entire arm and chest with an antiseptic salve that reminded her of Muggle hospitals and stood back. "Now watch what we do, Lily. This is a good experience for you."

Healer Marcs slowly severed the arm, just above the elbow, with a Cauterising Charm. They cleaned the area, placed a Skin Renewing Ointment and antiseptic on the exposed wound, and then applied the dressing and bandages.

She was so tired, so sick of looking after the injured.

A few had died, but the tragedy the day before really made her feel like everything she had done to help was a waste, when so many were beyond repair. A young witch who been raped and mutilated by Greyback, committed suicide.

She hoped Thomas would realise that an arm was just an arm and it will be eventually replaced with a magical limb, but his life was cherished by his family; his pregnant wife. She hoped that this will be enough to get him through.

She hoped just the same for her Mirror child, and for her own boy.

"Lily," Kingsley said, pulling away the curtain. "You have a visitor."

"Go on, dear, we'll be all right now without you." Healer Marcs smiled.

"She removed her own apron and cleaned up. Kingsley waited patiently behind the curtain and when he saw her again, he was beaming.

"Who is it?" she asked. She hadn't seen Kingsley so happy since the birth of his daughter, Clara, who was now growing up in Canada with her mother. "Why are you so happy? Have you been made Minister?"

The Wizarding world needed a new Minister for Magic. They needed a bright new Minister who would be just, fair and compassionate. They needed to someone who would lead an army to defeat Voldemort and rebuild their world after.

"I'd rather fight." He shook his head. "Dumbledore's in discussion with Amelia Bones and Gawain Robards about the position. But I think, personally, Robards isn't in the right mental state to be taking on that responsibility."

"I agree. He's just spent three years in prison…" said Lily, walking out of the marquee into the chilly night. She heard the rumble of a storm brewing in the distance.

"But his experience and knowledge will be invaluable. Even if he doesn't become Minister, he'll be Senior Undersecretary for sure."

"Yes, Amelia is much better suited, and she's got better communication and people skills."

"She'll be a wonderful leader. Anyway, let's hurry up, he can't stay long."

"So, who is it?" Lily asked as Kingsley steered her down a long winding path towards the back of the Burrow, where Arthur was seated with his wife and son, Bill, and standing near them was—she stopped, lost for words.

"Hi," James spoke. A huge smile was on his face.

He looked thinner than the last time Lily saw him and he wore the blackest of robes. On his right robe sleeve was a large gold embroidered Grindelwald symbol.

Lightening lit up the sky, the white blue light flashed around them, but she couldn't move. Was her husband really in front of her?

Kingsley and Arthur both smiled back, on the verge of laughter at her astonished and shocked expression.

"Hi, back?"

James tentatively stepped forward. This was enough to break Lily out of her stupefied trance. She ran, wrapping her arms around him, squeezing hard. They kissed each other several times before they pulled apart to stare at each other long and hard. She had to touch his stubbly cheek just to make sure he wasn't a ghost.

"I missed you so much," he whispered, nose nuzzling her jaw line. Lily let out a whimper. She was not going to let her tears fall. "I'm so sorry… God, I'm so sorry I couldn't save Sirius."

"It wasn't your fault." Lily rubbed his shoulder. She knew he was hurting.

"Godric returns!" Kingsley said with a lopsided smile.

"Oh really?" James responded, blinking away tears. "So _Godric_ was my codename? I was hoping for something a little more grandiose."

"Good to see you're still full of it."

Lily remembered that warning letter on Dumbledore's desk: _Chickens are spooked… can't put out the flames…_ _ **Godric**_ _safe with the rising sun._

"I never thought you were dead," she said. "Where were you? Are you okay?"

"I was with Grindelwald… most the time. Look, it's a long story—I haven't got the time to tell it. I need to go again. I just need to retrieve a couple of things, and some errands—"

"James!" Lily's joy turned to anger. "You can't just go again. I need you. Your children need you—"

"I know, but, I can see an end to this war. It will be soon, and I need to help as much as I can. I just wish… I wish Sirius was with me." He sighed sadly.

"What about the boy?" Arthur asked.

"It revolves around him."

"Which one?" Kingsley said darkly.

"Well," James scratched his head, "ours of course. Look, I don't forgive my son—I still can't fathom that he'll ever do good again, but he is still my son…" Then he whispered into Lily's ear. "I was taking care of him at Grindelwald's HQ. He forced him into a deep sleep."

She was glad that James had been with him. A part from the fact that James knew where Harry was, she burst into tears because of the change that's happened to James. She had always known deep down that James still loved their son. It was a broken love, but it still lingered.

"Oh God, Lily, I'm sorry—"

She hugged him. "Just shut up," she sobbed vaguely happier than before.

"What about the other?" Arthur asked.

There was a cluttering of buckets behind the darkness of the shed, and all members of the Order pulled out their wands, pointing them towards the darkness.

"Show yourself!" Kingsley boomed with authority.

James ripped himself from Lily's arms and followed Kingsley.

"It's just me, Dad."

"Michael!" Lily yelled.

Their son stumbled over another bucket as he came out of his hiding place.

"How did—?" Bill said, pointing at the boy.

"Sorry," Michael blushed. "I was passing the kitchen and I accidentally overheard you and Mr Weasley talking about my dad… I wanted to see what this meeting was about."

Lily crossed her arms, furious. How much had he heard and discerned? "This is a private discussion between Order members—"

"WHAT ABOUT US?" her son flared. "We've been in the dark about Dad, and now he's back you weren't gonna' tell us? Dad is gonna' leave again, just like that."

James knelt down, hugging his son, and then grasped his shoulders. "I'm sorry about all that's happened. It isn't right that you kids didn't know where I was, but at the start I was a prisoner myself."

"Is that what you tell yourself?"

"This is war and every little detail, every word said and every action made is a matter of life or death… You're still too young to—"

"NO!" He pulled away from his father. "We've got a right to know what's going on too! What's going on with Harry? Who's this other kid? And why were you with Grindelwald?"

James caught Lily's eye. They were worried about all their son had heard. She knew Michael was prone to irrational actions.

"Michael," he said sternly, "Harry is with Death Eaters. I was Grindelwald's prisoner, and he had tortured a boy… I was looking out for him. He reminded me so much of your brother…"

Michael bit his lip, hazel eyes twinkling in the wand light. "When are you going to stop lying and start trusting us?" He bolted into the Burrow.

* * *

Thunder clapped loudly. Harry yelped and jerked awake, tangled in his sheets. His heart was pounding when the lamp was switched on. His left leg and hip felt bizarre as though it was made of jelly. He then noticed a splint had been attached to his limb.

"Harry," Remus said softly, hand tapping his arm gently. "You were having a nightmare."

He looked passed Remus, cringing from the pain. He saw that the other bed had been slept in. The werewolf was watching over him.

"What time is it?" He tried to sit up. "Can you tell me more about the switch? Is James still here? The Atoner?"

"It's four in the morning—hang on, Harry, you can't get up—your hip!"

Then he remembered Cotter had removed the bones and lay still.

"Snape's made up a story that the absorption of power had caused his unconscious state. Agnes will return in the morning and James will be back soon."

Remus covered Harry's clammy shoulders with the quilt. The prickly sensation in his hip and thigh was growing more painful and he now fought the urge to scratch everywhere.

"Yeah but, how was the switch made?"

He was told everything, then Remus clasped Harry's hand tight, his other hand felt his burning forehead. A worried expression flitted across his lined face. "Do you need anything?"

"I'm really thirsty… So James is safe now, right?"

He nodded, as he gently held Harry's head up, helping him to a glass of water. "In a few hours I'll make you some breakfast."

"I can't eat…"

Remus placed the empty glass on the bedside cabinet next to a large picture frame. Harry casually contemplated the portrait of a pretty woman with long brown hair, and dark grey eyes.

"Who is she?"

"Was…" The werewolf's gaze lingered on the woman before he spoke. "Anne... was my wife. She was killed four years ago." He cleared his throat and dusted the portrait lovingly. "This is my children's room: Tristan and Bethany. They're my cheeky twelve year olds…"

"Er… where are they?" Harry held his breath.

They live with their grandmother in Belgium and attend Beauxbatons. I wouldn't trust them to be here alone with me with my… _affliction_."

"But—"

"Their grandmother insisted, and I wanted them safe from the war."

Harry lay comfortably, surveying the wizard closely. "How did you meet Anne?"

Remus smiled. "Lily introduced me to her. Anne was a travelling Healer interested in studying werewolves. As most of our population were offered rewards to join Voldemort, she came here. We became close after awhile and we eventually fell in love, although I did push her away for a long time."

Harry remembered Remus had done the same with Tonks. "You married Tonks in my world, only last year… their baby would be a few months old by now."

" _Tonks?_ Auror Nymphadora Tonks?" He laughed, scratching the back of his head in response. "Hmmm, interesting match..."

"How did, er, Anne die?"

"Death Eater attack in a Muggle part of London… She'd been out shopping with friends and they—" He sighed and Harry didn't want to prod anymore in the man's life. "Are you comfortable?"

"Yeah..." His eyelids were becoming heavy again. He looked around the room as lightening lit up the low ceiling and furniture. On the other side of the room, which must have been Tristan's, he saw Muggle posters of Manchester United and a little television.

"I chose this room for you to recuperate in because it has a lovely view of the Dales... well, when it's not covered by the Dementor mist, that is." Remus smiled. "I sometimes come in here when I think of Anne… she loved reading to the children every night." He stared blankly out of the window. "She used to gaze out of this window every morning and the sunlight would catch on her hair as she hummed to herself." He cleared his throat and turned to him, like he suddenly realised Harry was in the room.

"I hope you'll be comfortable here. If you ever need anything, don't be afraid to ask."

Harry could tell the werewolf really missed his children and deeply loved Anne. There was a look of loneliness in his eyes, but Harry felt as though he was trying to please him in every way possible.

"Thank you. I really appreciate that." Harry yawned as he looked down at his bandaged hands. "It's nice to see you, without you thinking I'm a Death Eater and all..."

"Likewise," he replied, dolefully. "I apologise for not believing you when we first met, and then Dumbledore Confunded many of us."

Harry's anger flared up at the mention of Dumbledore and his actions. Remus quickly changed subjects seeing the look on his face.

"Er, how was your treatment at Snape's?"

"It was surprisingly good. I doubt Death Eaters will take care of me like that ever again"

Remus's expression darkened. "I heard what happened between you and Bellatrix. That must have been terrifying."

A feeling of hot guilt suddenly took hold of Harry. He'd never forgive himself for kissing the witch, but he needed to take control of that situation. "It's something I'd rather forget! I can't believe my Mirror would even go that far."

"She's his mentor, Harry. Sometimes people can't control their urges. Besides, Bellatrix would've had her own motives—"

"No it was Harry. He manipulated her for information about one of…"

"One of what?"

Harry remained quiet for awhile. He had said too much.

"One of what?" Remus repeated. "You have to understand that we know very little about your Mirror before he killed his brother. There are lots of rumours and secrets, but if you can shed light what he was going through, it can help us."

He took a deep breath and decided to reveal a little bit of the truth.

"Beg your pardon? Horcruxes?" Remus seemed shocked. "Whose? And there's more than one?"

"Er—I—I can't say anymore."

Remus's brow remained furrowed for a few minutes.

"What are you thinking?" Harry asked, trying to ignore the ever growing pain in his hip.

"I'm starting to think there's more to him than just a crazed murdering Death Eater who joined Voldemort at the tender age of eleven."

_"Eleven?"_ Harry questioned darkly. "He joined Voldemort when he was fifteen, after he was invited to join. He refused, but Dumbledore urged him to take the offer."

Remus paled even more. "How do you know all this?"

"Through a unique connection Mirrors have." Then he remembered the most recent memories. "Remus, did Peter ever talk to you about werewolf cures?"

"A few times…" He rubbed his chin, thinking.

"Anything black and shrivelled looking?"

"Yes." He raised an eyebrow. "He showed me some ridiculous looking thing he had found in Estonia—didn't know what the hell it was and you weren't allowed to touch it, as it sent people into psychotic episodes that eventually killed them. Peter was told by a warlock that if he boiled it in the blood of a pregnant yew it would cure his disease. I knew he had been fooled, but it didn't stop Peter from trying."

"Did it work?"

Remus scoffed. "No, it didn't, otherwise I'd have been first in line to buy the cure. I know one thing for sure, Harry, that Obsidian Stitch thing was a complete farce."

Harry gasped. _The Stitch, the Stitch, find the Stitch… A Stitch in time saves nine..._

"Harry, are you all right?" Remus asked, worried again.

"I'm fine."

It all clicked. Now he finally got another clue. If it wasn't something werewolves would benefit, there must have been something else that it could do.

But what had happened to it, if it had once been in his Mirror's possession?

"I'll let you rest now." The werewolf yawned before plopping himself onto his son's bed. "Listen, how do you feel about Lily and James visiting you?"

He didn't feel like visitors yet. However, since James was resting in the house, he would be unavoidable. "Not at the moment. I don't want anyone coming to see me."

"Even Dumbledore?"

" _Especially_ Dumbledore."

"I thought you'd say that," Remus said quietly. "I'm so sorry about everything he's done."

Harry pursed his lips. "You've got nothing to apologise for."

Thunder boomed around the house and the rain finally started to pour.


	24. Visitors in the Darkness

**Visitors in the Darkness**

"All good now," Cotter said, as she examined Harry's hip.

The amount of relief he had experienced at that very moment could not be put into words. Harry let out a little sigh of gratitude.

The raging storm the night before had helped clear up some of the Dementor mist. Harry saw the vibrant green hills in the distance and the dark foreboding clouds that lingered in the sky over the Yorkshire Dales.

Cotter removed his bandages, replacing them with lightweight dressings. Harry flexed his limbs, and stared at his wounds and bruises. He knew once he was healed they would turn into hideous scars. There was no escaping them, just like his lightning bolt scar.

The Atoner gave him two salves to rub onto his injuries. "The red one's to keep the wounds heal. The second will reduce wounds to thin scars. Put them on morning and night."

"Thanks," he gladly whispered.

Cotter changed the dressings on his cursed wounds, and then examined his more humiliating injuries. After a sitz bath filled with aloe and murtlap, and a few other magical ingredients, she helped him into a pair of pyjamas, and made him stand. She supported Harry as he walked around the room, and only experienced a dull ache and dizziness as he moved.

"Don't go falling on me now," Cotter warned. She steered him into the armchair.

"I'll try not to…" Harry winced as he sat down.

"I'll get you a cane to walk with."

"When can I go home?"

"You should be well enough in a few weeks, but if you want to fight your own war, I suggest you stay a bit longer."

_Fight your own war…_ _She knows everything now!_ "I don't think I have that luxury."

"At least until you've fattened up. I need you to put on twenty-five pounds, walking well, your muscles strengthened and toileting normally. The cursed cuts will take awhile to heal."

"Alright," he replied gloomily. "But when the time comes, I want to know that I can run, jump and fight as I would've done before all this happened."

She nodded. "You'll be physically exhausted after, though. And mentally, I think you—"

"So just a few weeks, then?" Harry interjected. "Question is, will Dumbledore be happy for me to go back?'

"I think you've done enough to cause a change."

She cushioned his limbs with pillows and covered him with blankets. Harry shifted in the armchair, finding a more comfortable position and gazed out of the window, into the lush green fields and hills beyond.

Looking down into Remus's shabby backyard, he saw a vegetable patch brimming with plants. The storm during the night and dawn had turned the soil into mud and puddles which glittered in the daylight, just like the mirrors of his connection.

Cotter gave him a glass of the Nutrient Potion, and placed a tray of food next to him: Roast vegetables and steamed fish. She then sat down on the edge of his bed and she stared dreamily out of the window as Harry finished drinking it. She looked quite different now. Younger, with less of that brooding expression she always had in Azkaban.

"I heard you had a nightmare about Mr Fletcher last night."

When Brodes wasn't in his dreams, Dung was weaving in and about with his tongueless words, tormenting Harry.

He played with his food and said, "maybe…"

"You did what you had to—"

"I let him die."

"Listen to yourself. Fletcher was the one who retaliated against the Atoners, not you. It was his punishment alone. You were scared—"

"Then why do I feel this is all my fault?" Harry shook his head. "Why all this guilt?"

"You chose to survive…" Cotter looked at him sadly. "None of it is your fault."

"How-how did he end up in Azkaban?"

"He was caught stealing files from Umbridge's office. Stupid idiot—but he was brave enough to withstand their interrogation. Dumbledore tried to get him out several times, but it never worked and it was getting too dangerous for Dumbledore to intervene… in fact, the minute he left you alone after his visit, the Aurors were looking for him with the order for his arrest."

"Right." Harry now wanting to change the subject. "And how did you escape?"

She told him what had happened, then about meeting Lily at the Burrow and how worried she was about him.

"What about your own family?" Harry looked down at the vegetable patch again, and saw a stray goat from next door's farm munching on Remus's perfect, leafy greens. "Aren't they worried about you?"

She looked at him, again with a veiled expression masking her emotions. "I don't have any, and if I did, I wouldn't want to see them again."

* * *

Over the next few days, Harry got used to a new regime. Recovering in a house of a friendly wizard meant that he could be less alert and highly strung. Because of this, it also meant that the dark feelings and emotions he had kept hidden in the deepest parts of his mind were beginning to bloom.

Too exhausted, he'd sleep for half the day before Remus or Cotter woke him up. Every few hours they made him eat and walked him around the room. They changed his dressings, helped him wash, and then applied salves and potions.

After hours staring out of the window, sitting in his armchair, Harry became listless and tired, that he would constantly doze off. He hated feeling lethargic and weak all the time. Never in his entire life has he felt so vulnerable and so useless and he hated everyone treating him like a baby.

He ignored James's request to visit him before he disappeared again. Soon, Harry even ignored Remus when he spoke to him.

And as the hours wore on exceedingly slow, his dark thoughts and feelings were starting to choke him.

He remembered the nightmares of Cedric dying, Voldemort's rebirth and the torture he had experienced in the graveyard when he was fourteen. He remembered his mood afterwards and the numbness of Sirius's passing. It was Dumbledore's passing that had filled him with an anxious urgency to finish the war.

He knew how those feelings of hopelessness, fear and anger against the world felt. He felt them again, like old friends, greeting him after a long holiday. He would have to deal with them, hopefully better now, being older and more the wiser, because he knew wallowing in sorry and misery and nightmares won't end his war.

But he couldn't help it.

He told himself it wasn't so bad. He wasn't dead. But Harry hadn't felt so sad and so black before. It felt as though he would never feel happy again; never feel excitement and anticipation, humour, love. It was like a Dementor was in the room with him, yet he was _it_ , personified.

He felt as though the only reason he was still alive was to defeat Voldemort and then what would happen next? There was nothing to look forward to.

Harry barely touched his food now, and this was worrying both Remus and Cotter. _"You really need to eat_ ," they told him.

Even staring out into the misty Yorkshire Dales was useless now. It was nothing to him, there was no meaning to it... it was just there.

He felt numb to the world, and there were times where he thought that his time in Azkaban was detached from his psyche. Every time he now thought about the cell, their exercise regime, the trapdoor, the rape and his punishments, he felt as though his old life never existed, so far away, belonging to another universe… totally obliterated from this current one.

* * *

Lily was late to the meeting after Jessica had refused to leave from her spot under the bed, scared of a dark-haired witch she had dreamt of. She sat between Kingsley and Tonks and listened to Molly getting angry.

Order at the Burrow was being tested since the influx of refugees. Bored young wizards and witches trespassed onto Muggle farmers' properties, and blatantly used magic in front of the Weasley's Muggle neighbours.

Molly was going spare after the latest trouble. "Albus, how long do they need to stay here? Poor Mr Gregson had all his cows dancing around his paddock, mooing in tune to ' _You Take the High Road!'"_

The kitchen was crammed with old and new Order members. Some sniggered or otherwise did their best not to laugh. Those who could not fit into the kitchen were listening to the meeting through a secure wireless radio that would tune to their ears only.

Lily saw Molly's ears turning red like the setting sun. "This is getting ridiculous. Our paddock is much too small to be housing a couple of thousand wizards and witches."

"I agree, wholeheartedly, Molly." Dumbledore replied. "And all the children involved have been reprimanded. However, the numbers are starting to dwindle as they seek protection elsewhere. It'll become manageable by the end of the week."

"I see more people coming in everyday, than leaving!"

"I've asked the old members of the Order to join us. Death Eaters have been prowling their towns, attacking them when the opportunity arises."

"And the only refugees who'll remain are those willing to fight, like I am," Amelia Bones stated. She winced in pain as she clutched her wounded chest. "The others will be protected abroad."

"In designated spots?" Dumbledore asked.

"I've spoken with the French Minister, Aramis Savreux. He will be protecting the families in several secure areas. Minister Savreux and the Norwegian Minister, Kolgrim Toov, will be sending Aurors to help fight with us."

"That's a generous offer," he said, surprised.

Amelia had only been there new Minister for Magic barely a week and already she was getting things done. She even gave the Muggles licence to conduct air raids in spots they knew had hidden Death Eaters, information which Scrimgeour had refused to give them, afraid they would find the Ministry and target it out of paranoia.

Gawain Robards was the new Senior Undersecretary. Lily thought he looked better since he had escaped the Black Square.

Gawain fidgeted next to the new Minister, still a little shaky. "Amelia, we've lost fewer than two thousand Aurors! They were killed either at the Ministry or at Azkaban. We have only..." Gawain counted silently, "six hundred left and three hundred are at St Mungo's. We know Voldemort will attack there next. How many are the French and Norwegians sending over? What about the other European countries?"

"Three hundred each," she replied. "The Bulgarian, Italian and German Ministries are also sending us two hundred each, plus a tactics specialist and three senior Aurors to help teach us advanced battle defence spells.

"As you know, You-Know-Who specifically killed off all the most experienced Aurors, hours before the Ministry attack. The only senior Aurors left is our new Head of the Auror Department, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Gawain, and a few disenfranchised Aurors who had broken away from the Ministry, currently working abroad."

"A serious flaw!" Kingsley grinned. "I've asked the Aurors to come back and help."

"It's a shame, Mad-Eye isn't with us anymore… his expertise would've been invaluable." Robards shook his head. "He had been the only one to visit me in Azkaban... I didn't know he'd died."

Gawain had been one of the innocent ones to be imprisoned due to his disagreement with the old Ministry's regime. He voiced his opposition at the way the Aurors were becoming corrupt with the use of the Unforgivables, and the arrests and torture without warrants.

His title as Head of the Auror Department had been stripped, his wand broken, and his Auror robes ripped from his body. Gawain had been chained and paraded around the Ministry Atrium with a sign he held, labelling him a traitor and an Enemy of the Ministry. He was then carted off to the Black Square, while his wife and children were under house arrest.

"Why now, are we getting the help we've needed for decades?" piped a witch with a bandaged eye.

"We've always had allies. We've just had a corrupt Ministry not willing to let them help us," said Dumbledore. "Need I remind everyone the tragic event of 1989, when Death Eaters had attacked the Ministry for the very first time, and failed? Rufus had shut down the Department of International Magical Cooperation and refused help from other Ministries. As Voldemort had done, Rufus also had Aurors infiltrate Muggle organisations in Europe, hoodwinking people to stop them from helping."

Amelia agreed. "He had been afraid of international spies and he was deeply paranoid the Muggles would use their defences to wipe us out. Then Rufus was so concerned that Death Eaters abroad would permeate the Ministry, and then he had this stupid fear that another country would be interested in taking over the _English Ministry_."

"What if Rufus had been hoodwinked?" Emmeline questioned.

"Possible, but if he had been, Voldemort would've taken over the Ministry many years ago," Gawain grunted.

"I'm sure Minister Sevreux is happier now with the change of Ministers..." Albus smiled. "He definitely didn't agree with Rufus on several areas, especially our Ministry's denial about the Dementor mist spreading to Paris and the existence of French Death Eaters. There have also been several attacks on Muggles there that we've denied."

"And these attacks have gotten worse in the last seven months," Kingsley added. "And there has been an increase in the disappearances of talented wizards and witches, not just in France, but in other countries too in the last month."

Gawain grunted. "Looks like the sleeper factions are stirring. Even though Voldemort's been quiet for decades, he's been preparing himself quite diligently in Europe."

"Then we need to nip them in the bud, before it becomes too big to handle," Amelia said.

Kingsley shook his head. "The Ministries have noticed and are arming themselves, but it might be too late. Although, they've worried about Voldemort's claim over Britain, we think they've underestimated his influence in their countries. When these Sleeper factions are full operational, it will be devastating."

Dumbledore pinched the crook of his nose. "Voldemort's been slow, but methodical. They thought he was lazy… hesitant to take us over… but I knew more. I warned them, but they were in serious denial."

"However, it's possible, the Ministries do have action plans they're not letting us know about," Gawain said.

"Albus…" Amelia clasped her hands. "The Belgium Minister, Marie Sloss hasn't answered our messages. There have been reports that she's acting strange, passing on bizarre laws preventing Belgium Muggle-borns from attending Beauxbatons."

"I've heard, but like our situation, we couldn't do much," Dumbledore said.

"All eleven year old Muggle-borns school letters from Beauxbatons have been intercepted on the Belgium border. There have been some resistance, but children thwarting the laws have been imprisoned."

There was a buzz of whispers around the kitchen.

"And of course, Minister Sevreux is appalled that these Muggle-borns are restricted from continuing their education, and has been trying to rectify the situation with Minister Sloss to no avail. He thinks she's been Imperioused. Aurors are investigating and are to create an underground network to help bring these Muggle-borns and their families to France."

"There are also reports of students being abducted from Beauxbatons, most likely they'll be conditioned," Robards added. "France's sleeper faction is semi awake now."

"Germany sent us their reports," Kingsley said. "They've been persecuting their underground Death Eater groups... but they've been small, only a handful of Death Eaters every few years. Now they're alarmed that their numbers and attacks have grown tenfold in the last month. We're talking about over a thousand suspected Death Eaters in Germany alone now… and perhaps another thousand still waiting."

"What about Albania?" Dumbledore asked. "Voldemort had spent many years there as a young man."

"They have a larger network much more difficult to eradicate," Kingsley answered. "But the sleeper factions aren't fully awake. At the moment they can tackle the problem, but once operational, we will be defeated."

Gawain sneered. "Since Grindelwald's made his appearance, Voldemort's advanced his territory in a hurry. He needs to have a lead over the other. Despite reports of him weakening, he's army's stronger than ever. We cannot deny that he's organised himself in a way that we need to be prepared for an irreversible loss."

Lily closed her eyes thinking of a future where Voldemort won. A shiver ran up her spine.

"But Grindelwald's putting a dent in Voldemort's army," Kingsley said. "We're discovering dozens of dead Death Eaters every week, and hundreds have changed sides. The battles occurring every day between them, means we have more focus to prepare our defences."

Amelia was about to speak when a witch in the foreground, raised her hand. Dumbledore smiled.

"I'm, ah, Auror Ashling Flaherty."

"I remember you were just starting your Auror training when you came to me."

The Auror blushed at all the staring faces in the room. "I was working in Azkaban before the downfall, and I was guarding Class B prisoners outside the Black Square…" She took a deep breath. "I just don't want us to forget that some of the most dangerous Death Eaters imprisoned there have made it back to You-Know-Who. With all of them back under his command, we won't have a chance to beat this war."

"While they're a formidable power each to themselves, they're also damaged goods. The Black Square's changed us all," Gawain said. "Some of the Death Eaters have been acting strange over recent years. Rookwood's imbalanced, Priscott is unhinged, we heard Crouch screaming, and even Potter had made it a habit to test the Atoners... Voldemort will find them weakened."

Lily squirmed at Gawain's harsh, yet truthful words. Her throat was tightening at the thought of what her son and his Mirror had endured.

Then suddenly in the silence, Broderick Bodes laughed, banging the table with a fist. Lily vaguely remembered the Unspeakable being imprisoned for disobeying Minister's orders to preform experiments on captured Death Eaters. "What about the prophecies regarding Voldemort, Potter and Longbottom?"

_Prophecies?_ There was only one that Lily knew involved Harry, and that ended in the death of Neville Longbottom and his family.

"Bodes! You can't—"

"Ahh shut up, Croaker! The destruction of the Department of Mysteries has broken our oath."

The grey-haired and moustachioed Unspeakable, Professor Saul Croaker, pushed forward so that everyone could see him. "Us, Unspeakables, are still bound to secrecy, oath or not!"

"What's the use now?" Bodes spoke up, waving his trembling hands around. "We have a duty to help end this war and our knowledge may help!"

"But—"

"Look, there are two prophecies that involved the boy. I saw the orbs myself in the Hall of Prophecies. One had Voldemort's, Potter's and Longbottom's names. The other involves Potter and another mysterious person."

People broke out in chatter, and Lily stared intently at Dumbledore, who eyed at Bodes blankly. She wondered, hoped, that he'd let something slip. _Masks and lies,_ she thought.

Then Dumbledore spoke. "Whatever these prophecies were, Harry Potter's path has changed. Do not look for hope where none is. He will never turn. The prophecies have been destroyed, Professor Croaker made sure of that—"

"You destroyed the orbs?" growled Bodes at the fellow Unspeakable.

Croaker nodded. "Yes, I did, way before the Ministry attack."

"So we will never know, and what you must know is that the boy is true Death Eater," Dumbledore added, looking at the Unspeakables staring daggers at each other.

"What did you speak to him about, Dumbledore?" Bodes asked. "We all saw you going into the boy's cell for a private chat twice."

"I wanted to see if prison had changed him and what had happened when he had escaped Azkaban."

"And?" Gawain asked, curious.

"Nothing… He is deeply entrenched into Voldemort's circle. He has no remorse, no inclination to turn."

There were a lot of disappointed faces in the kitchen now. But Lily knew that Dumbledore was a spectacular liar. Her anger boiled once again.

"Now, we must worry about these bored and reckless children who are causing havoc around the camp. My plan, as Headmaster of Hogwarts is to erect a marquee where we can teach them. Professors McGonagall, Flitwick and Sprout, will teach the children their respective subjects. Hagrid will teach them about magical creatures. Professor Croaker, I understand you are adept in astronomy?" The Unspeakable nodded. "Your expertise will be invaluable if you'll take up my offer. Tiberius, I would be honoured if you can teach all the children, regardless of age, Apparation."

"Aye, will be glad to." The old wizard, coughed. He was still recovering from his infection from the Black Square, though he was not contagious anymore.

"They all need to learn more advanced spells, despite their young ages. The Conditioned are already quite skilled, whereas, our children only know the most basic of spells, depending on what their parents were happy to teach them. I know that the Order members' children are quite skilled in defence spells already."

Parents all around the kitchen agreed. It was about time, there was a place where all the children could congregate and be taught magic.

"Once I tempt Horace Slughorn, he will hopefully be a Potions teacher. And I will teach Defence, until I can find someone else suitable. I will also be adding a new subject, Healing. As I think now is the greatest need for more wizards and witches to be experienced in healing wounds. Madam Pomfrey has accepted," Dumbledore concluded. "It will be a trying time, confusing and perhaps a little frustrating. In a few days we will have a final timetable and classes. All children, aged seven to seventeen will need to report to Professor McGonagall."

"What about the rescued Conditioned?" another member asked. "My boy, Max, was one of the lucky ones from the Blue Square... but he needs help." There were tears in the thin mother's eyes. "He doesn't look me in the eye, or even speak freely... what have they done to him?"

"The Conditioned will be evaluated soon," Amelia said directly to the mother.

A bearded man with a round belly stepped forward. "I'm Healer Nicodemus Spratt and I am a part of a small group of Healers who will be helping the children and other prisoners assimilate back into society."

"And I am sure Healer Spratt and his team will do their best to help them," Amelia concluded with a smile.

There was a moment of silence.

Gawain tapped his finger on the table. "I think we have gone through everything we needed to discuss this morning," he said, surveying the parchment that was crossing off subjects of their meeting with a hovering blue quill.

Dumbledore sighed. "Next meeting will be in two days from now... same time, same place."

The order members broke into discussion and Dumbledore stood up, whispering with Kingsley, Gawain, Amelia and a few others.

Lily stretched her back, drained the last of her tea and placed the crockery on the kitchen sink where they magically cleaned with a sponge which worked tirelessly on its own all the while, trying to hide from Dumbledore in the crowd of retreating people.

Then she jolted at Dumbledore's gentle touch.

"Octavia has told me that your sister has recovered. She grows restless being here, Vernon keeps sending me threatening letters, and I think its time we moved her and her family to a better location."

Lily crossed her arms. She was afraid, that she might say something she'd regret.

He sighed again and stepped back. "I'm no saint—"

"I agree!" she spat.

"Lily, if you can, save your hate til the end of this war. Right now, I need your cooperation, _please."_

She narrowed her eyes, but she knew he was right.

"Walk with me… I need to tell you more about your sister and… the Mirror."

Lily followed Dumbledore into the living room. She noticed that Michael and Christopher were reading on the couch and both looked up when they entered. Michael had an expression that she knew too well, when he was trying to eavesdrop. She turned around. "My sister will have to go somewhere where they think they're not surrounded by magical folk."

"There is an abandoned farm near Remus's and it will ideal for them to stay in. The area is protected, and the house is liveable."

"But not to the pristine standards my sister enjoys," Lily responded slyly. Even though Petunia was still her normal waspish self, she did notice that her sister wanted more of her company.

"Nonetheless, Petunia has agreed to move there for the sake of her family. Now, I have a letter for you. It's from Remus. It's about—I think you'll need to know." He retrieved the letter from deep within his gold and blue robes.

Her hand trembled as she plucked the letter from his fingers. She turned her head and saw that Michael was craning his neck to see what had been exchanged. Lily quickly hid it.

"Albus, when Bodes said there were two prophecies—"

"The first you know about. The second one Sybil Trelawney had divulged, I would rather tell Harry alone."

"But he's with Death Eaters!"

"Not your son, Lily, the other."

"Oh…" She was gob-smacked.

"Don't look so shocked… Read the letter and see what you can do."

She clutched her cardigan pocket which protected the letter. He turned to leave, but Lily touched his hand. "Wait, Albus, I'm worried about Severus. I'm worried, because of Jessica."

"So am I, but he's skilled in many areas, and he will protect your daughter."

"I know, but time's running out for him."

Dumbledore patted her hand. "Don't fret over it. I always have plans."

"Plans that involve ruining peoples lives!" She looked into his blue eyes and thought to herself, who will suffer next to protect her little girl?

Dumbledore bowed his head.

"Ahh, Albus," squeaked Professor Flitwick, spotting them. "I have the information you wanted." He waddled over, handing Dumbledore a thick wad of scrolls.

"Thank you, Filius." Dumbledore smiled. "I was beginning to worry you wouldn't find anything."

"It took me days, but I managed. You'll need my help to manipulate the magic. Far too advanced for the likes of us… so two heads are better than one."

Lily excused herself from the wizards as their conversation turned to spell making. Besides, she couldn't stand being in Dumbledore's presence. She retreated to her bedroom and unfolded the letter.

_Dear Lily,_

_I hope all is well. James sends his love. He's disappeared again, but he promised me he'll be back within the week._

_I thought you'd like an update on the Mirror's condition._

_In the beginning he was improving, and happy to be out of the Death Eater environment. However, he seems to be spiralling into depression. He refuses to see anyone. He sleeps a lot and doesn't eat much, and if we didn't give him the Dreamless Sleep, he would be having nightmares. Albus doesn't want us giving him the potion, but I want the boy to sleep soundly._

_Even though he doesn't want to see you, I think he needs you. He calls out for you when he dreams. He misses his mother, and even though you are the Mirror version of her, your impact in his life will help him forward._

_Please come when you have the chance._

_P.S, I hope Michael and Christopher are staying out of trouble. And give Jessica a hug from Moony._

_Remus J. Lupin_

After several moments to herself, she pulled on her travelling cloak. She was bravely going to go Godric's Hollow to retrieve some of Harry's old clothes locked away in the attic.

* * *

Hours later, Lily sat down in Remus's wooden kitchen drinking a cup of tea. It was her fourth one for the day.

"So he still doesn't want to see me?"

Remus shook his head, re-entering the kitchen after checking on Harry. He mashed some potatoes rather violently and checked on the poaching chicken. "He's quite withdrawn. He's starting to refuse our help treating his wounds. He had scattered nightmares at first, but now every hour he sleeps his dreams torment him."

Lily crinkled her brow, "Why does Albus not want him to be given Dreamless Sleep Potion?"

He shrugged. "It's to do with the connection between the Mirrors."

"Connection?"

He stared back rather hesitantly, like he wanted to tell her more about the connection but decided not to.

"If you don't want to tell me, don't worry," she resigned. Lily worried about Harry's immediate needs, not whatever Dumbledore was up to. "But do you think we should offer him other support?"

"I'll speak with Agnes, and see if she can recommend someone."

"I think I know someone..." Lily looked at the ceiling imagining what Harry was doing upstairs in his bedroom. "I'll take up his lunch when it's ready."

"Good luck with that," Remus said, sipping his tea as he rejoined her at the table. "Because he's quite adamant that he doesn't want to see you. He flat out refuses to see Albus."

_"Albus,"_ Lily said to herself with bitterness. "He's changed so many lives…" she shook her head and Remus took her hand gently. He was hot to the touch, a sign that he was due to turn into a werewolf.

"Lily, I know what Dumbledore's done isn't right, but can you honestly say that it was wrong, given the situation he was in? He has everyone's best interests at heart and he had to make do with the resources he had. He did all he did for the sake of our world. He will be tormented by it. We all know he changed after his defeat. He did it to save our Harry, but…"

"He ended up destroying an innocent…"

Now Remus looked towards the ceiling, where Mirror Harry's room was. He patted her hand and stood up to carve up the chicken.

"Do you want me to cook for him, when you become Moony?"

He flicked up his eyebrow. "Lily, no offence, but I don't want to kill the boy with your cooking."

She threw a biscuit at his head.

* * *

Lily stood at the bedroom doorway a tray of food and potions hovered behind her. She held some clothes for Harry that he'd be able to use.

Harry sat in a flowery armchair that almost swallowed him up, covered in blankets and pillows that cushioned his broken body. He looked comfortable yet forlorn as he stared out of the window. It made her heart ache seeing how pale and gaunt he was, and there was that haunted ghostly look on his face, the same one Gawain Robards had. But he did look better.

Lily knocked softly. He turned slowly her way. "Hi," she said with a small smile on her face.

Harry shifted in the armchair. Every movement he made was slow and weak. "Hullo…" His voice was barely a whisper. He cleared his throat. "I saw you coming up the path."

"May I come in?"

He blinked, looking haughtily at her. "I specifically asked for no visitors."

"I know, but…" She ventured bravely forward, placing the ironed clothes on the other bed. "I've brought you some of Harry's things and your lunch."

"Is there any treacle tart?"

"Unfortunately that would be too rich for you." Lily smiled, slightly amused. "So treacle tart, eh?"

She walked around his bed, placing the tray on it, and she sat gingerly near him. Lily wanted to make his hurts go away, but looking at the state of his pale frail body, she knew it would be more difficult than that.

"Michael, Harry and James all love treacle tart."

He nodded, though he did not seem interested in the conversation, she noticed. "H-how are you feeling?"

He shrugged softly, and bowed his head in silence.

_Not good at all,_ Lily answered for him. He thought he would move past it as he always did, just like he had told her. She knew this would happen and knew his experiences would tear him apart.

"Is there anything I can do for you?"

Harry looked up, meeting her worried look, his green eyes dull on a wasted face. "A way back home would be nice..."

Lily touched his hand. "You need to fully recover before you go back. You won't survive your own war like this. We would never live with ourselves if you died fighting in this condition."

He pulled his hand away, staring out the window. "Funny... it was surprisingly easy for Dumbledore to live with it as I languished in prison."

"I can't answer for Dumbledore's actions, Harry. But when I found out I really wanted to rescue you, if that's any consolation, and James is worried sick about you."

Harry helped himself to a few bites of the chicken and some spoonfuls of the vegetables. The zucchini was left untouched. Then he stopped eating and just played with his food. Lily gave him a glass of the Nutrient Potion, which he only had a few mouthfuls of.

"I'll leave you alone now… I'm sorry I intruded, but I just wanted to see you. I'll be in the kitchen if you feel like speaking to me again."

He nodded softly as he stared out of the window.

"Harry again, I say, if you need to talk about… about anything, I'm only a Floo call away."

"I don't!" he snapped. The anger showed now, making Lily cringe. "I just want to be alone. I don't want to talk to anyone. I'm sick of this world and everyone!"

She felt as though her heart were ripping in two. She picked up the tray and left without another word. He was angry and hurt with them all, and nothing she could say would help him.

Lily was about to close the door, when she suddenly heard him sobbing and gulping. _Oh god…_

She peeked into the room and saw her Mirror child pinching the corner of his eyes, failing to stop the tears from falling. Lily left the tray hovering outside the bedroom and quickly rushed to his side, sitting on the arm of the chair.

"Oh sweetheart…" She wrapped her arms around him and all she felt were bones, shaking sobs and pure heartache. For a split second, Harry tensed, but then he suddenly cried harder at her touch.

"Shhh… just let it all out..." she said, trying to smooth his hair back. Lily felt him relaxing against her shoulder.

"I'm so sorry," he sobbed, failing to hide his tears. "I don't know what's come over me—"

"Don't ever apologise for this. Just let it all out—"

"I wish you never died…"

Lily felt as though all air was sucked out of the bedroom. She couldn't breathe. She had known her Mirror had died when the boy was one years old, but to hear him say it like that, truly broke her.

He sighed deeply, his fingers tightening around her body, grasping at her jumper as though frightened that he'd lose her again.

"I'm r-right here for you now… and that's all that matters." She trembled as she kissed his forehead, over his ghastly scar. He stopped sobbing and just relaxed, sniffling.

"You're going to be okay."

"It just hurts… it all hurts… Why me?"

"I know, sweetheart." She hugged him a little tighter, and stayed with him until the sun had set.

* * *

There were times during the day in his little bedroom that Harry wished he could jump out of the window he stared out of and run.

He lay curled into a tight ball, blankets and the quilt over his face, protecting him like a cocoon. He snuggled in, relishing the luxury he was deprived of in Azkaban, and even on the Horcrux hunt.

Harry stared at the alarm clock on his bedside cabinet, right next to the smiling portrait of Remus's wife. He watched the seconds tick by, the red light of the numbers burning into his eyes. Was this what his life had become? Recuperating, silent, and living the most mundane existence? Harry had left one prison, in exchange for one that his mind and soul would be trapped in.

He sighed and turned over in bed, forgetting about his countless wounds. He winced in pain and breathing in, he focused on the cracked ceiling.

Then there was a knock on the door.

"What?" he grunted.

"Good afternoon to you too! How are you feeling?" Remus peered in.

Harry shrugged in silence. He did feel slightly better since Lily had visited him days before. So he was more inclined to have visitors now.

Remus walked in and sat on his bed. "Come on, Harry, I'll take you outside for a bit. It'll do you some good."

"I don't want to—"

"Yes you do!" Remus said adamantly. He conjured up a wheelchair for him after walking down the stairs had exhausted him. He snuggled up in a cloak and scarf and was wheeled into the backyard.

Harry closed his eyes, breathing in the crisp, fresh air. As it filled his lungs, he suddenly felt more alive.

Remus wheeled him around the property. It was more of an acre of grassland, trees and ancient stone walls and the little cottage sat on a hill overlooking the Yorkshire Dales. For a moment Harry had a glimpse of the countryside before the mist swallowed it whole. It felt wonderful feeling the cool autumn breeze on his face.

Remus pointed towards a tiny farm-house in the distance. "The Dursleys are living there now," he said casually. "Petunia's all right—back to her usual self—maybe slightly changed for the better. But Vernon's still furious with us."

Harry blinked sleepily. "Do they know they live right next to a werewolf?"

He laughed. "No! What they don't know won't hurt them. It was a battle getting them to stay here in protection—Ahh, here they are!"

"Harrrrooo there!"

It wasn't that he saw James happily shouting in the distance, trudging up the pebbly pathway, which made Harry almost leap in joy. It was the two children with him, running up the path, their cloaks flying in the wind.

"HARRRYYYYY!" Ashley yelled. Her short brown hair was wind-blown.

Her brother, Anthony, followed behind, but he did not say a word. His hair was longer, covering up the scars on the side of his face.

"Well isn't this a surprise," Harry said, grinning, the muscles in his face aching.

Ashley threw her arms around him, squealing in joy. For a moment he couldn't see a thing.

"Blimey, careful," James puffed.

"Hey," Tony said, though his greeting was lukewarm compared to his sister's.

"I'm so happy to see you again!" the little girl cried.

"This is—wow, I'm—I was wondering when I'd see you soon."

"We're fine… Your dad's going to look after us, when everything's better," Tony said.

_He's not my father,_ Harry thought, _just a Mirror of him._

"You never guess where we've been," Ashley squeaked. "With Grindelwald!"

"Will you shut up about it," Tony spat.

"Now…" James crouched down, grasping the children with both hands. "While you stay with Remus I don't want to hear anything about the other boy, and Grindelwald. Do you understand?" The children nodded. "It's got to be a secret, because, if anyone finds out, both Harrys will be in danger."

Ashley nodded, fearfully. Her brother rolled his eyes.

James stood up and smiled sadly at Harry. "Hey," he said softly. "I—"

He stood up wobbly. He noticed they were the same height as he hugged his Mirror father, and James curled his arms gently around him.

"I'm so sorry—"

"Don't be sorry," Harry said quickly. "I'm glad you're alright _and alive."_


	25. Demons

**Demons**

Holding his cane at the doorway of the tiny guest bedroom, Harry watched Remus and James help the children settle in. The single bed was turned into a bunk bed and Ashley picked the bottom one straight away, as she was not accustomed to heights.

Remus told them the rules: "Make sure you hold down the toilet flush for more than three seconds, otherwise it'll block… The protection around the house stops at the stone walls… Never under any circumstances open the basement door…"

Remus had a spring in his step as he pulled the curtains shut and placed more blankets on the beds. Even his voice seemed less melancholic. Harry wasn't sure if it had been his presence that caused this pervading sadness, or if he'd been like this since his wife died. Nevertheless, the arrival of children had seemed to have given him a new lease on life.

"Oh Harry, are you going tell us stories before bed?" Ashley squeaked.

"When I'm well enough..." He smiled, admiring that even through the horror Ashley had experienced she was still able to enjoy the simple things a child should.

Tony climbed up onto the top bunk and stared at the ceiling in silence.

Having seen enough, Harry limped away, heading back into his bedroom where he discovered James hanging up his cloak.

"I hope you won't mind me sleeping in here…" James ran a hand through his hair. He sounded rather nervous.

"I don't mind at all." Harry snuggled in beneath the bedcovers. "What happened to you—to Sirius?"

"Sirius died trying to rescue a Muggle in an alleyway—I was abducted by Grindelwald's men." James sighed and stared at the floor. "They knocked me out after I tried reviving him. Grindelwald—weird, creepy block—kept asking about Harry's Mage ability, and if it could be traced back in my family. He also kept talking about the Deathly Hallows! I didn't care about his questions; Sirius was gone, and my son was under his control… I honestly thought we were in danger."

By now Harry had propped up onto an elbow, eyes wide. "What did he say about the Hallows?"

"He thinks that ring Dumbledore wears is the Resurrection Stone, and my invisibility cloak—"

"Well, they are."

James stopped laughing. Shock replaced his amusement.

Harry didn't want to peruse further on the subject. "What happened when you were Grindelwald's prisoner?" he asked, forcing James out of his surprised stupor.

"He, ah, kept me locked in a chamber—some old fortress in Ireland—Dumbledore never knew he had taken me for days. HA! The kids were there, and treated them like their own. They then moved us to a cave where I discovered my son, fast asleep on an altar. Listen, did that connection between you and my son work?"

"Yeah, we are able to enter each other's minds, see memories and speak with each other."

Then James tethered on the edge of saying something. However he looked uncertain he wanted to know the truth.

"How did you end up in Azkaban?" Harry asked first.

James scowled. "After weeks, I could move freely from Grindelwald's Headquarters as long as I returned. I went to Godric's Hollow—I wanted to see Sirius's grave—I never made it. Aurors caught me."

"You're lucky Umbridge didn't kill you," Harry said.

James shook his head and let out a whistle. "I bloody know."

"So what was your purpose being Grindelwald's prisoner?"

"Grindelwald and Dumbledore wanted me to help my son. You know, I can't believe they're working together! I spent days under guard not knowing what they were going to do with me. Then Dumbledore came to see me right before he visited you in Azkaban and told me the plan: they were going to put my son to sleep, straight after he'd ask you to wait in prison longer."

Something changed in James's expression. "Harry, I'm so sorry, I really didn't want you to be kept there. I flat out refused to be part of it—"

Harry put up his hand. He didn't want James's apology. "How do you feel about your son now?"

"I'm not sure. They told me there was a chance that you, being his Mirror, could help him see the error of his ways, and I could reassure him that it wasn't too late."

James stood up and began pacing the bedroom.

"Harry looked up to me. Yeah, we grew apart a couple of years before he killed Charlie, but before that, he'd never leave me alone… always wanted to be with me, go where I went… we did loads together, but Harry, is—was like Lily, you see. Michael—now that kid is a split image of my personality."

Listening to James talk about his Mirror being like Lily gripped his heart like a vice.

James shook his head, sadly. "I don't think we'll ever get Harry back the way he was…"

"How did you help, though?"

"I sat with him every day, held his hand, told him stories about his childhood, told him my stories. I told him how much we had loved him, that Lily—despite his evil, still loves him. That I…" He turned away, crestfallen.

"Do you?" Harry whispered. "Do you still love him?"

"I'll never forgive him."

"Nobody is asking you to, James. I feel sick at the thought that he is me, that I could become like him—"

"But you're not," James interrupted. "Dumbledore's told me all about you, all that he's seen through Legilimency. You're the son I would've been proud to have, who I am proud of. I wish…" His voice trailed off, never finishing his sentence.

He closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath. "James, your son noticed you there with him. I think you helped."

"I'm… I'm happy to hear that. I hope so."

James on the verge of asking something again, but this time he had the courage to say it. "Can I ask what you saw in his mind?"

"Secrets…" Harry answered solemnly, "and lies… You all don't know who Harry really is and why he's what he is today. When I'm better—before I go back—I want to know why he really killed Charlie, because he is determined not to show me."

His Mirror father gulped, and sat down on his bad.

"James, you wouldn't happen to know anything about the Obsidian Stitch, do you?"

He seemed confused by such a random question. "I remember Remus telling me what Peter showed him. Why?"

"Charlie and Harry were investigating it."

"Why don't you ask Harry?"

"Easier said than done."

* * *

Fifty bound and battered Healers huddled together in the main foyer of St Mungo's.

Death Eaters had infiltrated the hospital. It had been surprisingly easy. Some Healers had been killed as they fought back, but most, not being experienced in battle, just surrendered.

The staff that remained had been shredding records, fearing Voldemort would use them somehow and were looking after the few very ill patients too fragile to be moved.

The Hospital Head, Farris Barrach, knelt at Dolohov's feet. "Don't harm us. We're neutral in this war. Don't kill the sick—they haven't done anything against you." The large gash to his head was bleeding profusely.

Antonin Dolohov didn't look impressed. "You should embrace death willingly old man, but, we won't kill you." He looked around the main foyer. "It looks like most of the patients have been evacuated anyway."

"But those most seriously sick are still here," Farris added.

Dolohov's eyes brightened with amusement. "We've killed them—"

"NO!" Farris yelled. Several Healers cried in dismay.

"They weren't any use to us anyway." Dolohov pointed his wand into the Healer's face. "Now, you won't be killed. We need Healers working for the Dark Lord."

Farris looked disgusted; he seemed on the verge of retracting his words about neutrality.

Severus had been pacing behind the group of Healers. He had tried to save a few of the sick, sending them via Portkey to, of all places to a Buddhist temple in Nepal, but it was difficult and some would not survive the journey.

He and the Conditioned couldn't send the rescued to the Order. Dumbledore feared a spy was there and Severus needed to throw off the scent. If his master knew who had rescued the Ministry workers, then he was bidding his time to suss out the perpetrators.

Dolohov nodded towards Severus.

"I suggest you all take up the offer. Your lives will be spared and your families will be safe." Severus looked into their terrified faces. "Remember the oath you took when you became Healers? You must treat the sick regardless of their affiliations and past. Will you break your oath now?"

The Healers looked at one another and Farris looked torn.

"Yes but, we are being forced to do so against our will."

"For fucks sake," Dolohov growled, "join us or die!"

* * *

There was a much happier atmosphere at Remus's. Nevertheless, Harry still felt very bleak. His mood was dark and depressing, and amidst these emotions, anger and hurt swirled, and gathered speed like a forming tornado intermingling with his pain and fatigue.

Ashley and Tony explored the house or played Quidditch when the mist wasn't so thick. Ashley urged Harry to join them in their endeavours, but all he wanted to do was to sleep.

When Harry had the energy, he'd walk slowly throughout the house, sometimes discovering James and Remus whispering in a corner. He knew they were talking about him and he hated it.

James stayed with them at night, though by day he would help out at the Burrow. He told Harry about St Mungo's takeover and the Ministry attack. He explained what was happening within the refugee camp and that any day now, extra battalions of Aurors from Europe would come to their aid.

Harry also learnt that Lily was much brighter now that they were all safe and in turn she had sent him a lovely potted cyclamen which changed colour according to his mood.

Another day passed and another, and Harry was slowly feeling stronger and steadier on his feet. He decided to venture into the living room, laying on the couch in silence. He didn't speak much, but was content just resting, listening and dozing off by the warmth of the fire. Sometimes he retreated to the solitude of his bedroom, wanting nothing but the same quiet and darkness that matched the way he felt.

Other times, he just watched the children playing Exploding Snap. He heard James telling Ashley stories about Hogwarts and his adventures with the Marauders. But the children were especially keen hearing about their father.

When Harry heard about Mirror Peter being brave, his heart constricted. In this world, it had been Peter changing heart and realising his mistakes. With the effort of his friends, he had turned away from Voldemort.

Tony was still wary of James, but he and Remus got on very well. He followed the werewolf like a puppy. Remus was happy to oblige, perhaps happy of the attention he missed from his own children. He taught the young wizard some useful spells around the house, and the boy even learnt a bit about gardening.

* * *

Harry walked into the yard, his cane tapping on the cobbled pathway as he made his way to the vegetable patch where Remus and Tony were tending to the plants. He sat on the bench and watched, meanwhile, smelling the frying onions wafting from the open back door.

James was cooking pies for dinner, while Ashley was busying herself with drawing. Harry had seen some of the pictures she made and they were disturbing: dark monsters, collared naked Muggle-born slaves, fires, and windowless rooms. Red stains on the floor and chains, pictures full of green light and black robed figures holding knifes, and wands. The girl needed help.

Harry shifted on the bench, feeling the growing pain that prolonged sitting caused.

Remus breathed in the crisp misty air. "You know, Anne and I used to baby sit you—"

"I remember," Tony replied. He pulled out carrots, putting them into the basket. "I also remember playing hide and seek with Tristan and Bethany." The boy drifted off in thought.

The werewolf cleared his throat. "I can tell you're angry with James and Dumbledore."

Tony violently pulled out some turnips. "I just don't understand why everyone abandoned my family."

The boy straightened up, brushing the dirt off his hands onto his jeans, his watery blue eyes now full of bitterness.

"We never did, Tony. Your family was always on our minds. We searched for you. Dumbledore sent out spies... But the problem is the mentors always place anti-tracking charms on the Conditioned." He shook his head.

"Even before that, Remus. What about when my dad was alive? Nobody helped him then—"

"We all tried to help your dad, especially in the last months he was alive. You never saw us because your father had kept us out. He refused to let me in unless he was excited with some fake werewolf cure. He refused James, Sirius and Dumbledore too."

The boy was confused as he sat next to Harry. "But why?"

"Your dad was scared… brave, but scared. Being a werewolf was torture and shame for him. Your mother never let you kids see it, but it was tearing her apart. James felt useless and guilty because Peter was the one who had saved him from Greyback in that Bristow school attack."

Tony fell quiet for awhile, choosing to sit on the bench right next to Harry, with his head bowed.

Harry nudged his shoulder lightly. "Nothing is ever black and white," he whispered, learning that for himself as well.

Tony simply fell silent.

Remus finished watering the plants and stretched his back. "All right, I think we've got enough vegetables. Let's go back in. The days are getting shorter and colder and the Dementors find it _very_ romantic."

_"Eurgh!"_ Tony spat, rushing indoors.

Harry took Remus's hand and he was pulled off the bench.

He had grown comfortable with the werewolf. He was very similar to the Remus he missed dearly in his world, but their past made them different and there was a profound sadness in Mirror Remus that Harry now felt kinship with.

They walked past the bolted basement door near the laundry, and Remus made a comment that he would be imprisoned in there when he's to transform in a night's time.

Harry stood face to face with it. Tony scowled, as he would've experienced something similar with his father. He trudged off into the kitchen to see his sister and hand the vegetables over to James.

It was a thick iron door beneath the painted white exterior of the seemingly innocent exterior, in which someone had painted lovely flowers on it to brighten it up, and hide the horror behind it. There were several heavy locks in place, glinting ominously back at Harry.

A thick, impenetrable, iron door…

Thoughts about Cell Number 13 flooded his mind. Harry had to look away as a threatening bundle of emotions was raring to explode. The pain… the brutality, the humiliation….

And then…

" _You're mine Potter…"_

Harry whipped around, shivering… _He's dead!_ He told himself. But why could he feel the Atoner's hands on his body and his weight on him? Why could he feel the Atoner's breath on the back of his neck?

The laughter resounded in his ears…

"No!" he breathed. "Stop this!"

"Harry?"

_The clink of chains…_

"Dementors—"

"There aren't any here, Harry."

_A crack of a fiery whip…_

" _I'll fuck you, I will…"_

"Harry, what's wrong?"

_The screams…_

_The cell doors slamming shut…_

"Harry, speak to me!"

_His screams… his tears… his blood…_

A hand gently touched his arm, but Harry vehemently knocked it back. "Don't touch me!" he yelled.

The light bulb overhead burned fiercely and exploded. The shards of glass began to curiously float.

"Harry, you're okay…" Remus pulled back, concerned. "Nobody's going to hurt you."

He jolted when he smacked against the wall, letting out an involuntarily cry of shock. He slid down, breathing deeply, slowly gaining control of his senses. But the air was hot and suffocating, and he needed to go outside.

Harry burst out of the back door and sat down on the porch stairs, sucking in the fresh air, covering his face with his hands _. What the hell just happened?_

Remus sat down next to him and James had come out too.

"Don't—"

"I'm just keeping you company…" Then a minute later, "are you okay?"

He liked the fact that Remus had never asked about his treatment in Azkaban. He never once asked about his experiences, even though James had tried over the last couple of days, and Lily had urged him to talk about it. Now Harry felt as though Remus was on the verge of breaking that invisible bond.

"Don't worry about me, I'll be fine."

The werewolf sighed, staring at the bleak grey sky, the colour darkening to slate the longer they stayed out. He seemed torn… anguished. Harry had to turn away from his Mirror father, who seemed distraught.

"I'll… I'll go back inside," James whispered.

"Yeah, we're fine." Remus nodded.

But Harry knew James was listening in behind the door.

"Before I met Anne the most mundane thing would trigger flashbacks. When a dog bared his teeth at me, or I heard a growl, I was transported back to the very moment Greyback attacked me as a child." Harry saw him trembling. "I can hear my parents screaming… I can feel his fangs…"

He wondered if this is what happened to his Remus. He never had the courage to ask, or even the time to. Then Harry understood at that very moment that he wasn't the only one struggling with demons.

"I thought I was okay too, but it never really is, you know."

Remus unbuttoned his shirt, pulling it away to reveal the hideous scar in the crook of his neck and chest. "I'm lucky to be alive."

Harry closed his eyes, feeling a strange contricting feeling in his chest. "That door… it reminds me of…"

"I know… you don't need to tell me, but, would you like someone to talk to you?"

"No!" He blinked. "I, I don't know…"

"There are potions that can help, but it's always a companion to other help... and eventually your problem will only be horrible memories buried deep, with none of the effects that surface. It helps a great deal—"

"There is nothing wrong with me! I will be fine, I just need some time."

"I just want to say that it helped me a lot," Remus whispered. "Try it out, and if you don't like it, you can stop."

* * *

Severus knocked on the old wooden door and hoped Dumbledore would let him in before the autumn chill killed him. He gazed at the darkening, misty hills, and the little Muggle homes scattering the valley.

He knocked more vigorously, cursing himself for even answering Dumbledore's message to come. Merlin only knows what the recuperating Death Eaters were doing to his dreary house in Spinner's End. A few of them would stay awake until the early hours of the morning, drinking themselves to sleep, littering the kitchen with whiskey bottles and such. Severus also noticed potion bottles of a substance that had no name. Some of the imprisoned simply called it, _The Water_. He had tried it once, and it tasted bittersweet, instantly feeling bliss and happiness, and a vague sense that he was free. Taken in large amounts however, the drinker would remain in a trance forever.

There was a scrap of a dozen locks, and Dumbledore greeted him like an old friend. The warmth from the hut instantly wrapped around his frozen body.

"Severus! Come in, come in, you must be famished. I've made beef stroganoff and a trifle," he said happily, striding into his tiny kitchen where a pot of stew simmered, and a potion in a cauldron bubbled away. He knew the smell of it: Polyjuice.

Severus flicked up an eyebrow. He thought Dumbledore only wanted a debriefing about St Mungo's takeover.

"You invited me over for… _dinner_?"

Last time Dumbledore had served him dinner was when he was trying to butter him up for something. That had been after the Longbottoms died, and he wanted to quit being a Death Eater.

He crossed his arms, and narrowed his eyes. "What do you want?"

Dumbledore turned around, wooden spoon in midair, dripping a creamy mixture back into the pot. "Nothing, I simply wanted to enjoy dinner with a friend."

Severus sat down at the table and lighted the candle. "I sometimes wonder if you would've done well in Slytherin."

"Alas," Dumbledore chuckled to himself, "I _chose_ Gryffindor… I think we sort students too early, mind you… "

Severus grimaced. He was never given a choice with the Hat, but he pondered whether his life would've been so different to what it was today.

"Are we going to discuss Hat lores this evening, Albus?" he asked, drumming his fingers impatiently on the wooden table, his grumbling stomach betraying his stoic mood.

Dumbledore ladled the stew into chipped delft plates and placed one in front of him. The steam gave off a rich creamy and hearty smell which made his mouth water. Severus's lip curled. While his heart wanted the food, his mind dwelled on the fact it was a trap.

"We'll discuss whatever comes into fruition." Dumbledore poured burgundy mead into two goblets. "St Mungo's take over was an easy one?"

He scoffed. "Barely was a fight! Most of the Healers are at Hogwarts now, guarded." Severus savoured the taste of the stew. "What will happen with Gringotts now? The Dark Lord is very reluctant to do anything at this stage. He knows the strength the goblins possess."

Dumbledore's spoon was halfway to his mouth when he carefully regarded him. "Wait and see."

Severus didn't like the sound of that.

"Is Voldemort treating you well?"

"Better than most..."

"He keeps enquiring about Jessica Potter?"

Shifting uncomfortably in his seat, Severus wasn't hungry anymore. "I'm not exactly sure how I'm going to get out of this one. Every time he summons me, he asks about the child. I can't keep doing it much longer. He's going to kill—"

"No you will not die. I won't allow it."

Severus laughed, amused. Dumbledore was a great, powerful wizard, but not a match. He had failed the first time, and he would not survive a second encounter. "What are you going to do to stop him?"

"I'm hoping he'll be distracted by other more pressing needs."

"The war? Potter? Unicorn blood? Double agents?"

"What have you found out about the unicorn blood?" Dumbledore looked up, stirring his stew.

Severus stared deeply into the wizard's blue eyes, encountering nothing but a strong resistance. "Unicorns started dying two months after your defeat. I thought he had been selling the blood in the black market, but he's killing them for himself. He's been drinking it for awhile."

"Interesting..."

"Do you remember your defeat?" Severus asked. "You had trouble with your memory. Potter doesn't talk about it. There's a rumour he was involved."

He knew there was a hole in the story of Dumbledore's defeat, as he remembered trying to wake Bellatrix after Potter's absorption of her power had left her unconscious.

" _Bellatrix… Wake up!"_

"… _. My Lord… it was Potter…Potter… Dumbledore knew…he told him…I'll flay him …"_

Dumbledore whitened and alarm bells starting ringing in Severus's head.

"And what was Potter doing for two months in Albania? Either you or the Dark Lord sent him there."

"He sent himself, Severus."

"You're not telling me the truth."

Dumbledore cocked up an eyebrow. "My memory will never be recovered, I'm afraid. While I see you are trying to uncover a non-existent secret, Severus… is there something you'd like to tell me?"

He frowned. "Like what exactly?"

"I want the truth about Jessica Potter."

The spoon Severus held fell onto the plate, creating another chip. So Dumbledore knew about this lie as well. He decided to play along. "How long have you known?"

"Not long. Lily told me. She fears for her child," Dumbledore replied. "I won't reveal your secret, but I think James will need to know one day."

If Voldemort didn't kill him, he knew James would. "I'm not in the habit of revealing secrets, just like you."

Dumbledore lifted up his goblet of wine, in a toast. "And that is something which we both excel at."

Severus raised his and they both drunk deeply in silence. He swilled the drink in his goblet, savouring the aroma. "So you never knew about Jessica's true father before Lily told you?"

"No."

He looked up, thinking about when this lie had been made up.

"What is it, Severus?"

"I think Lily's been hoodwinked with a powerful curse, and I'm not sure why."

A deep line appeared on the old wizard's forehead. "But you did have an affair—?"

"Yes, I did, but I'm not the girl's father, James is. I'm sure of it."

"I think you're in denial."

Severus explained how she would test her daughter every day, and how she didn't see that James was the father and not him.

"I'm not sure what to believe now, but I know you would lie about this."

Severus snorted. "Thank you for your confidence in me. But I suggest you test the girl's parentage yourself."

Dumbledore rubbed his chin. "Continue pretending that you're her father. It seems like someone is playing a trick on you, Severus. Might be for nefarious reasons—"

"You think?"

"—Or maybe not. We shall see."

They ate in peace for a few minutes, although Severus had lost his appetite minutes before. His eyes roved around the little kitchen. It was bare, except for the most ordinary necessities. The fire in the small living room crackled and burned, and even though he had a home, Hogwarts and Dumbledore's little house were the only places he truly felt welcomed in.

"Severus, the boy must wake soon."

"When?"

"His Mirror is desperate to go home. I will need to speak with him, before he does, and only then can our Harry wake. I cannot keep the Mirror here longer, that would be unfair of me. But—"

He laughed cruelly. "I think you've been quite unfair to the boy from the beginning."

Severus had seen some nightmarish things in his lifetime, including the lifeless corpse of baby Longbottom. And witnessing the Black Square would be in his top ten worst, along with the Ministry takeover.

Dumbledore played with his food. "Once he wakes, things will move quickly."

"Well, should I just abandon my post and help you now, before my master finds out I was the leader rescuing the Ministry workers?"

"Not yet… I want you there as long as possible. My gut is telling me that there is a spy at the Burrow."

"Well, with so many people there now, I'd be surprised if there isn't one. There have been a few in the past."

"You're not frightened?"

Severus wasn't sure how he felt. Secretly, he was starting to get tired of all the acting. Eighteen years for a double agent was a long, weary time. Was he due for retirement yet? "I'm surprised I haven't been discovered yet."

"There have been a few close incidents, I recall, throughout the years," Dumbledore replied darkly. "Is there anyone in particular that Voldemort's looking for at the moment?"

"Do you know where Sybil is?" Severus asked. "The Dark Lord is currently interested in finding her."

Dumbledore seemed alarmed. "I haven't been able to track her down..."

"What is it?"

"There is a spy in the Order… they would've heard Broderick Bodes talking about the prophecies about Harry. The second prophecy in particular—"

"Do you know what that one's about?"

"Yes, but I won't tell you." Dumbledore smiled. "Saul Crocker destroyed Harry's orbs last year at my request—but it looks like Bodes had seen them before his imprisonment. I don't know how Gellert found out though."

"Does this second prophecy involve my master?"

"No Voldemort would've been interested… anything involving the boy would've intrigued and frightened him into knowing. He searched for the first prophecy when he invaded the Ministry, but it doesn't matter now. Now everyone knows two existed."

"You'll need to find her urgently." Severus finished his bowl, and mopping up the last remnants of the creamy sauce with some bread.

"Also, there is something Voldemort wants, which I want investigated. I never had the proper time to, but I know it is important now. I fear I had been too distracted with Harry to ever realise…" Dumbledore's said. "I have an idea why Jessica is needed, and when you take her—"

"What? NO! You can't use the girl!" Severus said, scraping his chair back. "I won't let you use her—!"

" _Touching..._ So you do feel something for the girl, after all?"

"Don't mock me!" he snarled in fury. "Don't ever—"

"I apologise, Severus. That was harsh of me," Dumbledore chagrined. "I know you are hurting and you are doing the very best to protect her."

"I'm doing the very best I can, just like I did with Potter. I lost track of him—"

For the first time since holding Neville Longbottom's corpse, he felt as though he could not string a proper train of thought together. He knew he sounded like a blabbering idiot, and it unnerved him.

He took a deep breath and regathered his senses. "I did it all for Lily… and I don't want to fail her again!"

"You never failed Harry," Dumbledore started, "I failed him. I alone."

Dumbledore entwined his hands. "You've suffered a lot, I know, and you've given up a happier life for the cause. Despite choosing the wrong path as a boy, and slightly skewed, you are an honourable man. You do not see it, but I do, just as much as Lily does."

Severus scoffed again. He was a snake. He was a slimy cockroach that did not deserve anything good and pure.

Sighing, Dumbledore poured more mead into their glasses. "Jessica will be spared of all this mess. She is a damaged child, and she needs to be protected. Even though you say you are not her father, I can tell you care deeply for the safety of Lily's children."


	26. The Other Help

**The Other Help**

Down in the dungeons, the flickering fires in sconces caused large shadows from the suits of armours to dance, as though they were in the midst of battle. Severus quietly walked through, ignoring old classrooms which had been turned into cells for the prisoners and slaves.

A few Death Eaters lingered, whispering in darkened corridors. While a few Ministry employees were sleeping, chained to iron loops, where centuries past, students would be chained and punished for their misdeeds.

Severus jolted, hearing an echoing scream down the corridor.

"Ahh, Severus," Lucius called from the shadows.

"Following me?" He swirled around. "What is it?" He was already on edge, and Lucius was a tug further into oblivion.

"Not following… Listen, our master is with Bella. He's furious with her, even though she helped me retrieve a witch he wanted. Help her out if you please."

"I'm much inclined to do the opposite, but since you've asked nicely…"

_Slithering fool._ He had once admired Lucius Malfoy. However, over the last few years he had grown prickly, conniving and murderous. He did everything to protect the welfare and name of his family above the loyalty to the Dark Lord. Not that it angered Severus, since he was a spying double agent, but whenever Lucius was wrapped around his wife's finger, Severus had the ominous feeling that plots were hatching to bring him down.

Lucius smirked. "I do it for my wife."

Both wizards had their mutual dislike for Bellatrix Lestrange. "And I do it to preserve my life."

Severus continued onwards until Lucius called out again.

"Is my son still at your house?"

"Yes."

"What's he doing there? It's been weeks since he's been home—"

"He is a grown wizard. He can—"

"Narcissa will not be silent any longer about it."

"He's there for Potter."

Severus saw a wave of hatred over Lucius's face.

"I've told him a million times—I have warned him about that boy. Tell him to come home at once. His family are more important than that half-blood!" And with that little note, Lucius whipped around and began terrorising one of the imprisoned witches.

When Severus walked into his old Potions classroom where the Dark Lord had asked him to meet, he was expecting a situation where he would be interrogated for not having yet given him Jessica Potter. Instead he found Bellatrix grovelling at his feet, with mascara running down her cheeks.

Bellatrix was trying to win back her master's love, by giving to him something he sought for.

To Severus's great surprise, and disappointment, he also saw the unconscious Professor Sybil Trelawney, sprawled behind the Dark Lord.

Trelawney had been in hiding since the downfall of Hogwarts, and not even Dumbledore had known her whereabouts. The Order had failed to find her.

"My Lord," Bella croaked, pulling at the hems of his robes. "It will never happen again. I apologise most sincerely."

The Dark Lord bent down and roughly grabbed a fistful of her long, dishevelled hair and puller her up. She stopped crying, not even showing a flicker of pain, but her dark eyes were wide with trepidation.

"You are a lecherous bitch!" the Dark Lord hissed angrily, now holding her head back by her hair, revealing her taut, pale neck. "You jeopardised your position. You let a Mage absorb your power!"

He flung her to the ground and Bellatrix let out a cry of shock. With a click of his bony white fingers a goblet of unicorn blood popped into view. It hovered in front of him. He quickly snatched it, drinking deeply. Then whipping out his wand, he yelled, _"CRUCIO!"_

Bellatrix screamed as Severus backed himself against the wall, watching the witch writhe on the floor for a minute.

The Dark Lord lifted the curse, his red eyes blazing as Bellatrix wheezed, struggling to pull up with the aid of an upturned table.

"Why Severus?"

Now the Dark Lord's attention was turned to him, but he was prepared for his punishment.

"I told you I wanted the boy guarded, and you let this happen on your watch?"

"She was rather persistent, my Lord. I also had no right to deny a mentor."

He wondered how the Dark Lord had found out about this incident, and guessed it was Pritchard. The alcoholic Healer had a decency to whisper things to the Dark Lord, hoping to receive rewards. Most of the time, these rewards were barrels of Firewhiskey, banned substances for potion making or a fresh Muggle-born to experiment on.

"That's true…" the Dark Lord nodded. He watched Severus, as Bellatrix continued to catch her breath in the corner. Sybil, on the other hand did not stir.

"The more power he absorbs, the more destructive he will be. He is young and his power is volatile. He must be like a hungry dog muzzled and chained." He paced the room, the Elder Wand in hand. "Pritchard told me the boy is in a deep sleep now. I'm not happy with this outcome, but I must admit it is a blessing in disguise."

"Of course, my Lord," Severus agreed dutifully.

"Bellatrix…" The Dark Lord turned to her, nostrils flaring. "Go home. Your magic is still depleted. You are relieved of your duties until you are fit—"

"No! HE MUST BE PUNISHED!" she screeched, outraged.

"Do not test me further. Potter doesn't need the support of a mentor anymore. But I will punish him."

With a sweep of his robes and a flick of his wand, their master left, dragging Professor Trelawney with him.

Now Severus was in the classroom with Bellatrix, glaring murderously at him. He had no time to act on Bellatrix; he needed to tell Dumbledore about Trelawney straight away.

* * *

Harry had had the most vivid dream.

"Harry?"

He had woken in fright, drenched in sweat, the sheets tangled around his legs.

"Are you all right?" James, knelt hesitantly by his side. "You were having a nightmare."

Harry sat up, one hand over his eyes, the other rubbing his scar furiously. He quickly remembered his dream before it slipped away forever. Snape was in it… And it looked like his old Potions classroom…Voldemort cursed Bellatrix.

Then his scar burned with such intensity it took moments for him to realise that he wasn't in his own world.

And what intrigued Harry most, was that without the unicorn blood, Voldemort's power couldn't work. The silver blood brought it all back. He felt Voldemort's urgency and fear, and his disgust at his weakness.

Harry's excitement turned to fear.

"No…" he shook his head as he vigorously rubbed his scar, "no, it can't happen here."

"What can't happen here?"

"Just shut up!" Harry yelled.

What did it all mean? He had experienced the very same while he and Pettigrew's children stayed at his aunt's. When it happened the first time, his scar pain had only been a dull prickle.

Shouldn't the connection have ended upon arriving unceremoniously into this Mirror Universe? Maybe not, but just thinking about the dynamics of Mirrors and dimensions was making other parts of his head hurt now.

"I'm sorry," James said as he backed away.

"Really, it's nothing you need to know about." Harry pressed his fingers on his scar, feeling guilty about his outburst.

"Well it looks like the worst of it is over…" James's eyes flicked over him and he grimaced.

"What?" Harry snapped.

"You're bleeding. I'll need to call in that Atoner."

He groaned when he noticed the blood stains on his bed sheets. Then the pain hit him. "God, it feels like I just got whipped a minute ago."

"Strip off and lay on your stomach," James pulled out a towel from the closet as he peeled off his clothes, hissing in pain.

Harry noticed the stubble on James's face and the dark circles under his eyes as he folding the towel over. It looked like he had not slept properly for weeks. "You should go back to your family, now."

"Soon, once I know you're all right."

He gripped his pillow tightly and stifled a yell when James gently soaked up the blood.

"While I was at HQ today, I spoke with Dumbledore… he really wants to see you."

Harry groaned into the pillow. "Well, I don't."

"I told him as much. He's left you something, a tin of biscuits. I put it on your bedside table."

Harry glanced over to the tartan tin lying innocently on his bedside table. He didn't need to eat the biscuits to resume his connection with his Mirror now.

Every night since arriving at Remus's house, Harry had successfully ignored the Mirror connection by shattering the mirror with an object that would break the connection. Doing this, however, meant he had to deal with his own nightmares, and now, visions of Voldemort.

James stood up, muttered a Pain Numbing charm down Harry shoulders to his thighs and retreated to call Cotter.

As he lay there, he contemplated his aching scar and the fact that while Dumbledore had once told him that he'd recuperate from his injuries in peace, he was still working to help his Mirror.

Harry stared at the tin of biscuits, and exercising his new magic, opened the window and threw the box out. Then a few cushions and various trinkets had decided to fall out of the window too. Ever since he had absorbed Bellatrix's power, his own was much stronger, but unfocused. It was like he needed to learn magic all over again.

* * *

Michael was angry. Nobody was treating him with respect and the truth he deserved. He kept asking questions to various Order members about his father, but they all ignored him now.

He knew Christopher was sick of his constant complaining. However, what other choice did Michael have than to lament? No one was giving him the answers he wanted.

Chris rolled his eyes, when Michael punched the side of his armchair in frustration after he had confronted his mother again, only to be shouted at.

"Just give it up. They'll tell us soon."

"I want to know _now_! We've been in the dark about everything! Why are you all so blasé about this?"

"Maybe," Ron spoke, sitting on the couch with his legs over the side, "there's a reason why you're in the dark about this. Has it occurred to you that what they're doing is really important with the war and stuff?"

Michael scoffed. "I'm almost of age—"

"Three years off of it more like—"

"You're a member of the Order," he snapped back. "I bet you know something." Michael knew he was being unreasonable, but he didn't care.

He kicked away an abandoned cushion on the floor and began pacing the living room, glimpsing out of the window every now and again. Outside, hundreds of tents still stood like manmade mountains. Some swayed in the strong autumn breeze. Kids were running about; some on brooms or playing games. A snitch zoomed lazily near the windowsill, before it disappeared.

Ron sat up. "I actually don't know a lot about what happens in the Order, and I think that's a good thing too from a strategic point of view. You've seen your dad around. He's okay."

The few times Michael had seen his father were during his school lessons, and this made him feel like he wasn't a son anymore, just his student.

Ever since the battle in Godric's Hollow, they weren't a proper family anymore, and he rarely saw his parents together. In fact he has never felt so alone in his life. Chris didn't confide in Michael much, preferring to bottle his feelings in, and Jessica didn't understand much of what was happening around her. He didn't have anyone else to really talk to.

"I need to get out of here," he mumbled.

If Sirius was still alive, Michael could've talked to him. He was the only one that he would turn to when he didn't want to talk to his parents. Thinking about Sirius brought back the sadness, so he took in a deep breath and trudged up the stairs in search of Jessica who was most likely playing with Ginny's old toys.

The upstairs quarters was almost deserted, and Michael could hear the clanking of plates and cups from the kitchen below where some of the Weasleys were having breakfast. His mother had quickly eaten her food before rushing upstairs to finish her chores.

He passed their bedroom and Michael heard whispering. He backed up, pressing his ear against his bedroom door and heard his mother talking.

Expertly, he opened the door so quietly that not even a mouse would have been spooked. Even though the door was opened just a crack, he could see the blazing purple flames in the fireplace and the egg-shaped head of his father within the flames.

His mother knelt by the hearth. She must have been in a rush to go upstairs to speak with him, that she stupidly didn't put a Silencing Charm on the door. He smiled deviously, because maybe now, he'll find out something important.

"So his back wounds reopened again?"

"Yep, looking as fresh as the day he was whipped."

"The poor boy…" she shook her head. "How is he feeling?"

"He's a little down—but they're cursed wounds, Lily, and Cotter knew this was going to happen."

"Should I come?"

"No, don't bother, he's sleeping anyway. Cotter won't let him out of bed for a few days. Maybe come then." Michael could see the grimace on his father's face.

His mother sighed. "He's been through so much. This is just another set back for him."

"I know, but he's so angry… his anger, the secrecy, we never realised the signs for what they were with Harry… I'm starting to worry about this boy now. I want him to pull through—"

"You shouldn't worry, James. This boy isn't our son. He's angry and hurt. You were the same when Charlie died, it doesn't mean you turned evil."

Michael's heart was pounding in his ears so much that he could barely hear the whispers anymore. Who was this person his parents were talking about?

"Yeah, I suppose so. He's a good kid, but he's in that phase now—"

"Well, you'll have to help him pass it. Harry didn't, but he never wanted our support. He only had the Death Eaters to guide him."

Michael bit his lip. He couldn't contain his questions anymore, and with one brash move he entered the room.

"Who are you talking about?" he said confidently.

His mother whipped around in shock and his father scowled. He could see his father's jaw tensing as his mother stood up, checking out the door, and then closing it sharply behind him.

She took in a deep, calm breath. "How much did you hear?" her voice was smooth, but he knew her anger was about to explode.

"Most of it, I think." He crossed his arms determined not to be swayed, determined to get the truth out of his parents. "I want to know—"

"A boy your father rescued from Grindelwald is recovering in an Order household."

"Is he like Harry?"

"He is a Mage."

"What's his name?"

"Michael, you don't need to know all this information."

"I just feel so left out, Mum! Just tell me."

His mother's stern posture relaxed slightly. "Sweetheart, this is war. This is serious stuff we're dealing with—"

"I am not a child! So stop speaking to me like one."

She took a step back and regarded him in silence. "You're right… however, this isn't a game about finding out the truth and why we're lying to you about it. It's not about that, you can fight, yes. I know you can, but there is a lot you still need to learn."

"Then teach me!"

"What do you think everyone's been doing, Mike? Fluffing around?" his father said indignantly. "You need to start focusing on your studies, than wasting time disrupting classes and writing dirty limericks on the blackboard."

"Your father is right. We are protecting you by giving you the best chance possible to be a kid—"

"You let Harry do whatever he wants! You let him go on missions alone or with Dumbledore."

He must have said the wrong thing, because his mother was in the verge of tears.

"And that's why I can't let you go… We let him, because he is a huge part of this war—more than me and your father… but you're not. Please Michael, don't rush into anything, because I…" She put a hand to his cheek, "don't want to lose you, like I lost Charlie and Harry."

Then all he could do was look down at his dirty sneakers, because he couldn't stand staring into his mother's watery eyes. "I'm… I'm sorry." It took a great deal to say it, but he felt bad for storming in like that, for all the pent up emotion he'd been feeling for many weeks now.

"I'll be back, Mike, real soon." His father nodded. "I think it's time I stayed with you."

Amidst the heavy punch of guilt, he felt elation. They were going to be a family again.

He walked back into the living room, hand in hand with Jessica after finding her, and sat down to a game of chess with Ron.

Ron had barely moved his knight, when Dumbledore entered, serenely, wearing Aqua robes.

"Good morning boys and girls."

"Sir?" Ron said surprised. So were Michael and Christopher as they stared at the wise old Hogwarts headmaster.

"Mr Weasley, may I have a word with you in private?"

"Me?" Ron asked, in shock, again with that tone of surprise.

"It won't take long as I have a very busy schedule. Sometimes I wish I had the time to play a game of chess."

"Why do you need me?" Ron questioned, getting up slowly.

"This concerns a small matter which I would greatly appreciate your expertise with."

Intrigued, Michael looked back and forth between a bewildered Ron, who he was sure, had never had such attention from the headmaster.

Michael wondered what was going on as he watched the wizards retreat out of the house.

* * *

It took four days before the Atoner let Harry out of bed again, satisfied that his cursed wounds wouldn't reopen again.

"How often is this going to happen?" he asked as Cotter bandaged his torso. His stomach was grumbling. He was actually hungry for a change.

Cotter unrolled the crisp bandage around him. "The nature of cursed injuries is that they are always difficult to predict, Potter. I don't know, but it seems like strenuous activity reopens them."

"This is something I really don't want happening again."

She looked up. "Well, I'm telling you this now, there is a fair chance it is going to happen again. I think we'll need to apply that healing salve three times a day to your back now. How are the other cursed wounds?"

"It's just painful sitting down," he mumbled, squirming with embarrassment.

"They won't need redressing until tomorrow—look I know it's hard, Potter." The Atoner stood up, and then helped him pull on a shirt. "I was there and I've seen a lot. You're not the only one who suffered because of us."

"Yeah, but you're one of the good guys."

"I wish I was."

"Why do you think you're not?" Harry asked. "You stole potions to give to Ministry fugitives, big deal! You should see some of the stuff I've done. You never wanted to torture people."

She was silent for a few moments. "I did things to the prisoners as well, Potter. I'm sure your Mirror would like the chance to kill me." She shook her head, disgusted with herself. "It was either becoming an Atoner or imprisonment…. I didn't expect it to be as hellish as it was. I took orders without question and I followed Willis's example." "Then one day, I realised what I was doing. I hated it and I refused to take part in their little games and just focus on Healing."

Harry placed his hand over hers as she did up one of the buttons of his shirt. "You were brave enough to stop it and I admire you for it."

She smiled. "Thank you." However, he had the odd feeling that she was humouring him.

"Agnes, I'm serious."

He had grown up a lot in this hellish world. The one thing he had learned was that that nobody was divided between good or bad, everyone, including himself, had both attributes within them.

"When did you realise I wasn't my Mirror?"

She helped Harry into a hoodie, before placing redundant potions and dressings back into her carpet bag. "Minimal scars on your body and none I had never seen before. As a Healer, I knew it's impossible to erase curse scars. Willis cottoned on, and asked me about it, but instinct told me to lie. Dumbledore of course, refused to say anything about you and Kingsley laughed at me."

"Dumbledore wanted me there."

"I know. I knew you were definitely different when you fought against Brodes. Your Mirror never did that."

"I had to fight back! How can anyone not fight that?" He gulped back his words. He couldn't talk about it, not even with Cotter, it was still too raw and painful and humiliating. He tried fighting back, because it made the guilt and shame easier to bear.

"When I couldn't fight them, I gritted my teeth and wished every one of them dead…"

Cotter closed her eyes. "Potter was a broken boy before he entered Azkaban, and whatever the Atoners did, he submitted. He only started to retaliate during exercise in the last months he was held captive. I don't know what he wanted to do, but I suspect he just wanted to push them as far as he could before they'd kill him."

Harry gazed out the window into the grey misty landscape. "What makes you think he was broken before Azkaban? He was a high ranking Death Eater. He would've had all the rewards and gratitude from Voldemort."

She stared at him. "Because he greeted prison like it was his home."

* * *

A little dazed after his conversation with the Atoner, Harry walked into the kitchen and welcomely, he found Lily and James talking, drinking tea.

His heart skipped a beat. She looked up, green eyes meeting his. Her grey-streaked hair was up in a bun. The crease on her brow just moments ago, relaxed at the sight of him, and she smiled.

"Harry!"

James turned around, "Come, take a seat, mate."

"Er, I hope I wasn't intruding—"

"Don't be ridiculous," Lily piped, pulling a seat back for him. "So Agnes has given you the all clear?"

"For now…" He nodded as he sat down gingerly, eyeing his Mirror parents.

How he had wished and dreamt of a scene like this in his own world: both his parents watching and eager to talk with him. He wanted this moment to last forever.

"I was going to come up and see you," she said.

Harry flinched when Lily brushed the hair from his eyes. She backed away, biting her lip.

He smiled back in reassurance.

"You're looking much better," she said softly, as she gently straightened the crooked collar of his shirt.

"Thanks.

"Hungry?" Lily asked.

"Famished in fact."

James hopped from his seat as though he had suddenly sat on hot coals. "I'll make you a sandwich."

Then Harry noticed that the house was quiet. "Where is everyone?"

"Remus took the kids to the stream… I haven't had many chances to talk to my wife alone." James winked. "Every time I do, I'm interrupted."

Harry felt guilty. "Really, I should go then."

James put his hand on his shoulder when he tried to get up. "No, sit down. Most of our conversations revolve around you." He looked towards Lily. "Harry, I won't be able to stay here much longer. I'll be leaving tomorrow night."

"That's good. I want you to focus on your family."

"Our children suspect something. And we can't keep lying to them about it," Lily said, curling her lip. "They wonder where their father sleeps at night and all the secrets. Michael especially resents it all."

"Sneaky bastards, just like me," James added with a crooked smile.

Lily frowned. "The fact is we can't have the boys find out what is really happening. Besides, we've got to get our lives back on track—"

"As if I had never arrived," Harry interjected.

Her eyes widened. "No, sweetheart—well—in a way yes. I wish we could have met under different circumstances… but in order to sort things out with our son and win this war, we need to keep you a secret and carry on, like you never existed."

He nodded and sat back, admiring his mother and father for just being alive. He would miss them deeply when he exited this hellish world.

"Will you be fine without me?" James asked.

His words weighed heavily in Harry's chest. "I have survived the last seventeen years of my life without my parents. Don't worry about me."

They grimaced, and Lily's eyes were suddenly teary. The silence in the kitchen made Harry uncomfortable.

"You need to get on with your lives, and the more time we spend together, the harder it's going to be when I finally leave."

"No, no, I'll pop over for dinner every other day." James smiled sadly. "I'll tell the kids I'm going on errands for the Order or something."

"No goodbyes, then," Harry replied.

* * *

Harry stared out of his bedroom window, deciding to stay in while James played Quidditch with Pettigrew's children before he left the next day. His clothes had already been packed up and sat by his bed.

He was going to miss having his father as a room mate. He would miss the constant companionship. Their conversations, though serious, had given Harry a sense of grounding and belonging, something which he needed and a sense of what it could've been like having his father around.

James was a little disappointed that Harry hadn't joined them for a game of Quidditch. But Cotter had instructed that he was in no fit condition for that sort of activity anyway. Nonetheless, he really didn't feel like playing, even though it was flying that made him the happiest, in a time where all he cared about was getting his ten scroll Potions essay done.

It made Harry's heart twinge when he told James that he was the youngest seeker in a century. He watched James's eyes glow, with a huge grin plastered on his face as he raffled up his hair. He even opened the window to tell Remus, who had been sitting on the bench, the news.

Deep down Harry wished he was telling this part of himself to his own father.

As he watched Ashley zooming about very wobbly on an old Comet broom, he dozed off in his armchair. He only woke when there was a knock on the door.

"May I come in?" Remus asked.

"Depends…"

He looked extremely ill and dejected, his voice trembling. There were visible scratches on his face and hands. The torment of being a werewolf, Harry thought.

"I have a visitor for you. You may not like it, but just realise we're only thinking the best for you."

"Yeah," Harry said ominously, secretly hoping it was anyone but Dumbledore.

Remus strolled in holding onto the furniture for support. Behind him there was a broad wizard with a beard that would've reviled Hagrid's. He held onto a battered looking leather satchel.

"This is Healer Nicodemus Spratt—"

"I don't need another Healer."

"Mr Potter, I do not heal physical injuries. I heal the mind." He beamed.

Heal the mind? "I'm not craz—!"

"Of course you're not," Healer Spratt said. Harry could see his smile beneath his great, brown beard. "As a Mind Healer, I help people who are going through some rather rough patches. I have already seen some of your prison cellmates."

"Yeah well, there's nothing wrong with me," Harry huffed, looking out the window again. Did this Healer know who he really was? "The kids outside need you more than me," he said, thinking about Ashley's drawings and Tony's bitterness towards everyone and the world.

"Ahh… I'll be leaving you two for a bit of privacy," Remus interrupted. He walked out of the bedroom, giving Harry a half apologetic, and half, it's-for-the-best-you-know look.

The Healer cleared his throat. Harry felt a twinge of anger. He did not want to talk about his experiences.

Spratt sat down on the bed and pulled out a pair of spectacles out of his bag. Harry watched the wizard wearily as he pulled out a leather notebook and wrote down the date which a flourish, which reminded Harry of Gilderoy Lockhart.

He placed the book on his lap and looked up, smiling. "Mr Potter—er, may I call you Harry?"

"Do whatever."

"You can call me Demus—"

"Do you know who I am and what I've done?"

Demus twirled his quill slowly. "You are a Death Eater, Harry."

"Why am I here?"

The Healer shifted a little. Harry could tell he had no clue.

"I wasn't given the details. I don't ask questions of that nature. I just do my job and I am bound by secrecy."

But Harry saw the hesitancy behind Demus's bright eyes. The Healer began scribing into his little notebook and he wondered whether this wizard could be trusted.

It was with this thought that he felt strong magic surrounding the Healer. Puzzled and vigilant, Harry looked at the wizard closely and discovered the remnants of a charm. Entwining red and white ribbons were glowing Demus's right arm.

Harry squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head vigorously. His growing Mage ability was playing tricks on him. When he opened his eyes again those glowing ribbons had disappeared.

"When you say you are _bound_ by secrecy, do you mean by your profession?"

Demus looked up, blinking, and said one word, "Dumbledore."

_The Unspeakable Vow…_

"It's a lovely day outside. This is the longest I've seen a day without mist for a few weeks now. I noticed that some friends of yours are playing Quidditch," he said, staring out the window to the spot Harry was watching.

He could see the little figures in the sky on broomsticks. Harry sighed and gave him a noncommittal grunt.

"Why do you not want me here?' Demus asked.

He rolled his eyes impatiently. "Look, I just don't need to pour out my heart to someone like you."

"I won't prod you for information. I'm not here to ask you to tell me your deepest, darkest secrets, Harry. I just want to help you move past these events you've experienced. We will go through some techniques to use at first, and then I will give you a potion. These will help you move on."

"I'm fine. I don't need everyone making a fuss over nothing."

Demus flicked through his notebook. "Do you think it's nothing?"

Harry didn't know what to think, except that he wanted to escape this horrible nightmare.

"I've been told about your dreams. You had a recent panic attack—"

"Panic attack? I saw a door which reminded me of my cell. That wasn't a panic—"

"But do you want these to continue?"

It took a moment to realise that Demus wasn't patronising him. He said it gently. He was genuinely curious how Harry would react to such a question.

"No, of course not."

Demus closed his notebook, stood up and walked over to the shelf by Tristan's bed. "What on earth is this bizarre looking device?" He asked, staring into the reflective television screen. "It is the most useless mirror I've ever seen!'

"It's a television."

The Healer turned back, surprised. "Ahhh, apparently the pictures move..."

Harry told him which button to press, and the Healer fell back onto Tristan's bed stunned, as the music and sound from a soap blared into their ears.

"Remarkable!" the Healer trilled. "They've managed to capture sound as well! We've haven't been to do that with our pictures. Their movements aren't repetitive either."

Demus reminded him of Arthur Weasley's curiosity for all Muggle things. Harry could've laughed, but his mood was so black, that the urge was mostly suppressed.

"So, how are you feeling?" the Healer asked, as he turned off the television.

"Alright, I guess." Harry shrugged.

Demus sat down near him. "Give me three or more emotions you are experiencing at this very moment."

"Why?"

"Pretend it is a game."

Harry glared at the broad, hairy Healer. "I feel—I can't do this!"

"I'll start then…I feel compassion, curious, determined."

Harry pinched the bridge of his nose. "This is just stupid!"

"Yes I know." The Healer snorted. "But you can do this."

Harry sighed loudly.

"I know you can. Go on."

He gave in. "I feel… listless. Hurt. Pain…"

Demus nodded encouragingly. "Anything else?"

"I feel anger and humiliation every day."

Harry felt as though the floodgates were opening in his body. He could almost feel the tension releasing, felt the burden in his veins, pulsing out like his blood. "I feel as though I'll never be happy again…"

The Healer suddenly stood up, eyes wide, frightened.

The room was pulsing, furniture vibrated, things on the shelves started floating, portraits rattled and the bedroom light swung.

Without realising what was happening around him, Harry continued. "I feel as though every bit of dignity was taken away from me—I feel rage."

Demus backed himself against the wall in shock, holding onto his wand, and Harry did not understand why, until he saw the reflection on the Healer's glasses.

Surrounding him was a black aura. He saw it all round his body: the blackest of black rays resembling smoky swaying arms, like seaweed would in the roughest seas. And they pulsed, with the beat of his heart, and with the rage he felt.

Harry had evoked his new power with only his darkest feelings. Looking around, the magical cyclamen which Lily had given him started to die. Its once colourful flowers turned black, withered in front of his eyes.


	27. The Phase

**The Phase**

_Harry walked into a clearing filled with thousands of purple anemones. They were everywhere, like thick woollen blankets with small white butterflies fluttering around them._

_And then he saw her._

_Even with her back was facing him he instantly knew that shade of Weasley red hair, her petit rounded shoulders and her trademark posture, slightly leaning to the left. It was a habit from always carrying her bag on her left side._

_"Ginny?"_

_"Hello Harry." Her voice was melancholic and she didn't turn around._

_He tried to walk around so he could see her, but every step he took was futile and all he saw was her red hair._

_"Ginny, I want to see you…"_

_She bowed her head, and a pale hand slipped behind her head, pulling her hair over her shoulder. "I don't want to see you, Harry."_

_"But, but why?"_

_"I never want to see you again."_

_"I-I don't understand, Ginny. At least tell me why."_

_"You broke my heart, Harry. I loved you. You took my love and ripped it apart."_

_Anger started to flare up. "If this is because I didn't want you to come on the mission with me, I'm sorry. I was just trying to protect you. I don't want to lose you. You know that."_

_The girl shook her head, never having the decency to face him. "No… you betrayed me. I can never look at you again."_

_"Why?"_

_"You disgust me. You are repulsive. My skin crawls at the thought of you."_

_Shocked was not a strong enough word. Harry was stunned beyond belief. "How…? What have I done?"_

_"It's what you let them do to you."_

_It felt as though someone had driven an axe into his chest. "I'm sorry."_

_"That isn't enough to repair what's been done to me. How can I ever see you? How can I ever touch you... and be with you… and kiss you, knowing what I know? How can I, knowing the truth? Who would want to?"_

_He opened his eyes_ and _gasped loudly. The thousands of anemones grew taller and bigger, obscuring Ginny's view from him as the plants towered above his head._

_"GINNY," Harry yelled, his hand stretching to her through a gap in the tree size anemones. "Please, I'm sorry! Forgive me. I couldn't stop them."_

_"Yes you could've!"_

_It was then he heard him, his laughter. Harry turned around and saw him. He was a giant version of Gregory Brodes. He was bigger than Grawp._

_Harry shook his head. "No—NO! DON'T COME NEAR ME!"_

_"Your pretty little girlfriend will never have you back."_

_"NO, DON'T SAY THAT!"_

_"Yes I can." Brodes took a booming step towards him. "You're mine, Harry. She knows it, and you know it. You'll never forget." Brodes laughed._

_"NOOOOO!"_

After a sharp intake of breath, the darkness was replaced by the morning light. Harry heard laughter. Awake now and panting, he realised that laughter was different and it belonged to Ashley.

* * *

He got up and walked into the bathroom. Holding the sides of the basin, he caught a glimpse of his pale face in the bathroom mirror. He looked more of himself, healthier, but still frail and he needed a hair cut again.

"Stop this! Get a fucking grip on yourself!" He scowled at his own reflection.

"Lovey, it's too early in the morning for that sort of language, thank you," the mirror replied.

Glaring back, he splashed his face with icy, cold water and got on with the day, putting the dream in the back of his mind.

Harry limped into the kitchen, cane rapping on the tiles. He was still slow and awkward moving about. Sometimes Harry felt he was eighteen turning eighty-eight.

He saw the Pettigrew children eating and Remus reading a large book, while James was hard at work cooking.

The smell of crisping bacon and eggs made Harry's stomach grumble. Bread was toasting on the grill and sausages were sizzling..

Harry was going to miss his Mirror father's cooking. Since Lily wasn't the best cook in the world, James had to learn fast, and he prided himself at it. Sometimes he and Remus would have arguments on the best way to cook Yorkshire puddings, or which potato was best for roasting.

"Harry's here!" Ashley yelled over her porridge.

"Really? Where?' James joked, with half a sausage hanging out of his mouth. He checked under the table. "Oh bless my eyes it's Harry Potter." He winked as the little girl laughed.

"Morning everyone," Harry yawned as he sat. Remus smiled weakly, sipping the all too familiar Nutrient Potion.

"Are you still recovering from the last full moon?" Harry asked with concern. It was a week ago and he still looked very peaky.

"I think it was the added stress with your rescue and arrival," he croaked.

Harry fidgeted in guilt. He really wished he wasn't a burden on these Mirrors.

"He's all right." Tony shot them a lop-sided grin and looked half interested in eating his breakfast.

"Here you are, Harry," James said, instantly placing a plate laden with breakfast in front of him. "Eat as much as you can. Cotter says you don't need the Nutrient Potion anymore."

"That's another potion I don't have to take now," he mumbled as he picked up his knife and fork.

Remus sat back drinking his potion, Ashley was wolfing down her food, while Tony played with his. He seemed more interested in the news picture emblazoned on front of a Muggle newspaper, sprawled on the middle of the table.

The front page's headline revealed that Cork was in ruins. Harry saw the picture of huge fires engulfing the landscape and terrified Muggles running from the scene. Tony seemed hypnotised by the picture. A large Dark Mark hovered high in the sky above the smokes and flames. Tony turned the page and Harry caught an article that three U.N members, from France, Switzerland and Spain had gone missing after a Muggle conference in Europe. There were also rumours those three Muggles had acted strangely and had to be removed from the meeting.

"The European nations have voted against sending help to Britain, in any form, again. No surprises there," remarked James, as he reached over for the orange juice.

"I for one don't like the idea of Muggle warfare being involved. It's bad enough we do have the occasional air raid by the armed forces. But every time they hit something, there are no Death Eaters present—they just Apparate before the bombs hit.

Harry looked at the picture. "Hang on! Is that Kingsley in the background?"

"Yeah, he sometimes infiltrates the U.N, or NATO, just to make sure there aren't any security breaches, but..."

"They have been breached in other ways." James replied. "We think the Muggles have been controlled for years and there are spies in all their governments, both Death Eaters… and Scrimgeour's old agents."

"Er… why would Scrimgeour have—?"

"—To influence the Muggles and European Ministries to stay out of Britain's problems. To be quite frank, they don't care anymore, they tried in the beginning, but it's quite obvious Scrimgeour didn't want help even though the Muggle government pleaded."

Remus shook his head. "Dumbledore has sent warnings to the Ministries in the past. I think their relationship with Scrimgeour left them all sour."

"Is that all?"

"The Ministries abroad are in denial, or have not noticed the minute changes in attitude over the years, but recently they've started noticing the stir of Death Eaters and are fighting back," James said. "The Berlin Minister was found dead yesterday, apparently she killed herself."

Remus nodded. "She went missing after our last Order meeting… most likely had been under the influence of the Imperious Curse that made her kill herself."

"And these Muggle disappearances are very bad. It's spreading fear fast."

"Why now, though? Twenty-eight years of hell, and now they're worried?" Tony asked.

James scratched his head. "Because Grindelwald is forcing Voldemort to act on a bigger scale, that's why. For all these years Voldemort would push and prod in secret. But it's what he was doing every few days that was tipping the scales in his favour."

"He's been killing and threatening his opposition to join him." Remus took another sip of his potion. "Every few days, he'd outnumber one random family with a hundred Death Eaters. The Order never knows who to really protect that night, and a few of us would die in the process. It's a game of cat and mouse."

"So after all these years, it's never been a stalemate war. Voldemort would eventually have most of the Wizarding population forced onto his side," Harry said. "And the Order flushed out."

"It's a slow process, and its Voldemort's arrogance which made him believe this could've been the way. However, Grindelwald's forced him out of the woodworks and to change tactics. Now the sleeper factions he's placed in Europe after decades of planning are ready to wake up."

"Right, enough about war, let's just eat," Tony mumbled.

"Yes, you're right… Is everything okay, Harry?" Remus asked.

He nodded and stared into his scrambled eggs, thinking that his expression might betray him.

"Healer Spratt will be coming shortly," Remus said. "He wants to see you Tony, and then you Ashley." The children scowled.

Harry was glad they were getting help. He learnt that they had escaped more brutal forms of conditioning under their Mentor by doing exactly what she wanted them to do.

"Harry… do you want to continue with your sessions?"

He held his fork in midair and closed his mouth, quickly losing what little appetite he had. "After what happened the other day?"

"Yes. Your feelings are manifesting themselves, and it has surprisingly made him curious about you."

James returned to the stove to turn the frying bacon. "Harry, you're just feeling a lot. Besides, you've entered the Dark phase."

"Yes. You are developing your power unusually fast, but this may be because you've entered a Mirror Universe and your Mirror is alive." Remus tapped the book in front of him.

"What are you reading?" Harry tried to decipher the faded gold Latin title of the book. There were two others as well near him.

"Research about Mirror Universes and Mages. Dumbledore's given me the task to try and find information about how to get you back home too. This book only talks about the most basic information... Mages are Dark... creating magic for Mirror travel is extremely advanced, just as Time Turners are, and deadly if used incorrectly."

Harry was grateful they were starting to help him nonetheless.

"Basically, things you would've learnt about in sixth and seventh year... there are many alternate universes in a person's timeline... yes we all know that..."

"All this is seriously restricted information, Remus," James said as he seasoned the frying food. "Could you imagine if we knew the magic to create a Portkey to transport us into a—"

"Don't get ahead of yourself, James. We may have been brilliant, but not that brilliant."

"Speak for yourself." He waved the spatula in his face. "If Sirius was still alive... he..." James fell silent and let the sizzle of the fry up mask his lost words and feelings. Harry felt suddenly uncomfortable.

"Well," Remus cleared his throat. "I think I might need to sneak around looking for new materials..."

"Maybe we should ask _Snivellus_ to stroll through the Restricted Section—"

"Don't call him that anymore." Remus scowled and snapped the book shut. A small ball of dust shot into the air. "How about you watch my bacon?"

"How about you get off your furry arse and help me?"

Harry played with his food. "Er, the thing is, if—if I'm in this stupid phase, I'm worried I'll end up like Harry."

"Don't," James spat, "start comparing yourself with my son. You're different!"

"Yeah Harry, I think you're way better." Ashley smiled.

* * *

As Harry walked out of the house to where Demus wanted to meet for their session mid morning, he could smell smoke which had probably drifted from the massive fire in Cork.

He felt rather nervous, seeing the bearded Healer reading his notebook, sitting by a gnarled tree.

"Good Morning, Harry, sit down. It's a crisp day, but fresh air and nature does wonders to our souls."

"What, even with the smell of smoke from Cork?"

He was about to sit, when he hesitated. Harry noticed a cluster of anemones nearby like the ones in his dream.

Demus turned his eye to what he was looking at. "Cork is far away, but you are here, fighting your own battle."

Harry curled the scarf tighter around his neck and buried his hands in his borrowed cloak. He took a deep breath, shaking the thoughts of his nightmare away.

"How have you been since our last encounter?"

"All right, I 'spose. I'm sorry about what happened—"

"No harm was done, Harry. It was just something I've never seen before." His blue eyes were cautious though.

Harry sighed impatiently as he saw an owl swoop past. "So what are we doing today?"

"I want to hear about your experiences—not what had happened, but how you felt during them. Would you be willing to do it?"

"Where do I start?" He laughed coldly. He, of course, did not want to reveal anything if he could help it.

"Where ever you want to."

Should he start with his parents dying, the Dursleys treating him worse than dirt, Voldemort, and everything that had occurred at Hogwarts? He could talk about travelling into a Mirror world where all hope had been massacred along with little Neville. Should he talk about his guilt for not saving Dung from a horrific death, because Harry did not want to be tortured? Perhaps he should talk about having his dignity ripped away.

But no, he couldn't speak about things which weighed on his mind. And nor did he want to, because they were his secrets. It kept him alive just like his beating heart. To let them free would cause him grief.

"I'm sorry, but I really don't want to do this."

"Why?'

"It just feels so unnecessary."

"Give me a chance, that's all I ask," Demus said softly. When Harry didn't respond, he continued. "How do you feel about Azkaban?"

"How I feel about it?" he said angrily. "It was hell and I'm glad it's gone. I'm glad they're all dead—I'm happy _he_ died the same way he tried to kill me!"

"Who?"

Harry felt his vengeance satisfied when Malfoy had explained what had happened in the Black Square and how Brodes had died. He felt elation at the thought of Umbridge dead as well. Sometimes he even wished Mirror Dumbledore dead.

But then the guilt started to grow, did he really want people dead, even though they had made him suffer?

"The Atoners!" Harry roared. He stood up, his hands in tight fists. He felt like running away.

Instead, something else took over this urge. He could feel the power sizzling within him. With horror, Harry jumped away from the spot he stood, watching the grass around his feet and the leaves of the branches near him yellowing, and dying. He wasn't absorbing their power, he was killing them. He moved away, as he did not want a repeat of what happened days ago.

"Tell my why?" Demus asked, eyeing the dying vegetation warily.

"It's… it's what they did to me."

It was no secret that Gregory Brodes and his cronies liked to rape the prisoners, or that Willis liked to bully and torture, while the others mocked and brutalised them. Yet the words fought not to escape his mouth. It felt shameful, humiliating, and just plain right disgusting to even talk about it.

He remembered the pain, and the rawness he felt after Brodes had left his cell. Their ghostly touch remained ingrained on him for hours. Harry could do nothing to alleviate the inner turmoil and sadness. He would just bury his head into his pillow and sob, sometimes forgetting to breathe, because it was just too much.

"Let it free, Harry... Tell me."

He ran an agitated hand through his hair and sat down, eyes trained on the grass.

"When they—I feel so disgusted with myself—so dirty."

_Ginny_ , Harry thought with a heartbroken pang. How could he ever look into her brown eyes after what he had been through? The nightmare he had just experienced rubbed salt into his wounds. How could he ever tell her and his friends about any of it? It had to be his dark secret. His friends could never find out, he vowed.

"They took everything away from me… I'm so angry, so _fucking angry_!"

"What did they take?"

He watched a trail of ants which had stopped moving. The little creatures were suffocating, their legs flailing, and Harry watched them, suddenly intrigued how far his power could go.

_Die..._

_NO!_ He shook his head vigorously. He was not that sort of person. These were living things. He looked back at the ants. He didn't want them to die, but his power was beyond his control, with all the emotions he was experiencing. He stormed off; hoping some of the ants would survive, hoping his power would calm itself, hoping to stop his thoughts of wanting them to die.

He felt sick at the evil he felt like committing. The one thing he didn't want his power to do, he just let happen. He thought of his Mirror. He will never become him.

This world may have stolen a lot from him: his dignity, his body, his freedom, but it would never steal his soul.

"You're not alone, Harry," Demus yelled after him.

He stopped and turned around, feeling a breeze whip his hair about and a stronger smell of smoke and ash. Somewhere within his mind, there was a ripple… he could feel his Mirror's presence and it was making him shiver and nauseous. He grasped his head with both hands. Then Harry heard him. It was a whisper he couldn't escape from.

_"Do you feel it stirring? You can't escape it. It will swallow you whole."_

Harry rushed out into the Dales, far away from the house and from Demus, as fast as his weakened legs could go.

Their connection had grown so strong and he wondered what else his Mirror had seen. "GO AWAY!" he yelled, gripping his head.

His Mirror laughed before breaking the connection. Harry felt instant relief and realisation that he had fallen onto his knees, his cursed wounds pulsing in pain again.

Demus had followed him. "Harry, are you all right?"

"It's nothing. I just have a headache. I don't want to continue with this session."

"I don't think I should leave you—"

"LEAVE ME ALONE!"

There was a sudden charge of electricity in their air around them, and the sky lit up with a brilliant white flash of lightening, even though there was no thunder cloud in sight.

Demus jumbed back. "I'll go, Harry. But call me when you're ready."

Harry sighed and pounded his fists into the dirt around him. For awhile he sat there staring at the green hills until the Dementor mist came back.

He went back into the house hours later, after a lot of soul searching, but the answers he wanted were nowhere to be found.

James had prepared a lovely roast lamb with mint peas and gravy. Harry just played with his food as his Mirror father joked around with the children. It was his last day living with them before moving back with his family, and Harry wanted to make the most of it, but all he could think about was the evil growing within him.

When it was finally time for James to leave, as promised, Harry didn't say goodbye. He gave his father a long heartfelt hug and stalked away back into his bedroom away from everyone, therefore, keeping them away from his harm.

* * *

_"I'll miss you Harry…" A grin showed off Brode's immaculate white teeth._

_The golden knife in his hand glowed blue._

_Harry arched his back against his restraints and screamed._

He gasped, but it was the screech of an owl that really woke him. When he opened his eyes, the figure standing at the foot at the bed looked like a demon. Harry froze, fear overcoming him. He regained control and sat up as the figure walked around the bed. Even in the darkness its green eyes shone bright.

"Why are you here?" Harry asked, switching on the lamp. He was still angry with his Mirror for invading his mind that morning.

"I was starting to worry about you. You haven't entered my mind since you were at Snape's. Besides, it's rather boring that you always get to enter my mind. I thought I'd pay you a little _midnight_ visit…"

"Don't joke about it!" Harry hissed.

"Why haven't you entered my mind?"

"I couldn't be bothered helping you, when I'm trying to help myself. But since you're here, I have some questions for you." Harry made himself comfortable.

"What are they?" the Mirror exasperated.

"You and Bellatrix?"

The Mirror rolled his eyes impatiently. "Nothing… I simply teased her for information on the cup: a tease, a kiss, the power of a strong seduction charm and play of words, nothing more. I never went that far then. I was still a stupid naive Gryffindor trying to find answers."

"Obviously you then landed yourself into a bigger mess."

He nodded with a chuckle. "Dumbledore was right to be concerned… things got a little more serious. I hated her, and she hated me. I enacted my revenge, she enacted hers. Back and forth—cat and mouse." He ran a hand through his short hair. "She pleaded with our master to get me out of Azkaban… _touching_." He laughed. "She only pleaded because she hated the fact her control over me was out of her hands. Didn't stop her from using other means—but she never had control over me anyway."

"I can't believe this," Harry said, quite repulsed now.

"I'm not proud of it. I hate myself for it. But we both relished it the moment it happened."

"Was it you, though? Or was it the Dark phase?"

The Mirror sat on the bed, staring out of the dark window. "I suppose it was the Darkness thing. Thinking back on it makes me feel horrible. The same way you feel now that you kissed her…" he smirked. "A great, dirty, dark secret... How would Ginny react when you tell her?"

"She'll never know." Just like everything else, he thought.

Harry didn't want to dwell further about Bellatrix. The bile was creeping up his throat.

"Won't she?" the Mirror questioned. "The love of your life must know your secrets, Harry. How will she react when she finds out the countless times they fucked you…? And even though you fought back and resisted, your body betrayed you, making you enjoy it. Confusing isn't it?"

"You're sick and twisted!" Harry spat into his Mirror's face, a surge of power released from his body before he could control it, and he didn't care. He wanted to hurt him.

The Death Eater suddenly collapsed to his knees. He yelled in pain.

"STOP!" the Mirror's eyes flashed in the lamplight. "Stop using your power!"

"At least I have people who love me!" Harry yelled, ignoring his pleas, relishing his power to hurt. A new thought entered his mind. _Wouldn't it be great to hurt Dumbledore?_ "Who do you love? Who loves you?"

"HARRY, STOP YOUR MAGIC! CONTROL IT!"

The wizard doubled over in pain, hand clutching his chest. The sweat on his brow covered his fake lightning bolt scar. He lifted his hand and Harry was ricocheted to the other side of the room, landing with a thud.

Harry's encircling emotions and the manifestation of power ceased suddenly with that blow. He looked up, seeing his Mirror struggling to get up.

He laughed. His chuckles were icy and sharp. "Do you want to kill me, Harry? I can feel it. You want to make sure Dumbledore pays for everything. So do I. Let's do it together!"

At that moment Harry didn't know what he wanted.

"He deserves to suffer after what he put us through."

"No!" _Yes._

"You're in denial," the Mirror hissed. "You want people hurt."

He felt the emotions twisting within him. What the hell was happening to him? He fumbled onto his feet, massaging his bruising chest.

The wizard sneered. "Why don't you? You think you'll become just as evil as I am? It's revenge, Harry, its justice and you deserve it."

He shook his head. "I can't—"

"You wanted Bellatrix to suffer when she killed Sirius. You're happy the Atoners are dead."

"That's different!"

"Why?" the Mirror asked, "Because they're the enemy? Sometimes, evil is right under your nose and you're too oblivious to notice it, because you care about them. You need to cut it off, before it kills you first. Dumble—"

"I WILL NOT!" Harry yelled. "He did it for a reason—"

"So you're just going to do whatever he says?"

"I'm trying to get better to go home and to give you a fighting chance. I don't give a fuck what he did to you, Harry! He's my only chance to get out of here."

"You're scared."

"Oh grow up!" Harry spat. "Sometimes, people have to make the harder choice and stick to it rather than run away."

The boy seemed amused. "No, you're scared of killing. You're scared of giving in to the Dark phase… I did once."

"Yeah, maybe I don't want to turn out like you."

"There is a thrill when you kill for the first time. It stays with you for the rest of your life, and it nurtures your growing powers. You'll be more powerful than the rest of this pathetic squabbling wizard population. Think of what you can do? You can become even greater than Voldemort himself. I know I am."

"I'M NOT LIKE YOU!" Harry yelled back.

"Are you sure?" He stopped laughing, his expression serious now. "You're losing yourself to the Darkness, just like I did. It will be spectacular."

"I'm different. You're scum—nothing—"

"PROVE IT TO ME—!"

"Nobody loves you!"

Mirror Harry's expression slowly changed and Harry could see his features evolving from that of a boy whose soul had been warped into something barely recognisable, to someone who was vulnerable and shattered.

"You father doesn't love you. Whatever he said to you while you were with Grindelwald is just a plan to get you on our side again. But he will never love you again. He felt revulsion every time he held your hand and told you stories."

"You're lying!" the Mirror spat. "I saw a different side of my dad when he was there—"

"Your mum—you devastated her. She wishes you died instead of Neville—"

"STOP THIS!" Mirror Harry screamed. There was anguish and terror in his eyes now.

"Your parents wish _I_ was you."

"YOU'RE A FUCKING LIAR!"

_Checkmate,_ thought Harry, thrilled. The ever growing power rippled within him again.

The boy doubled over, as though in pain, hand clutching his chest again. This time, Harry was not using his power to hurt him, willingly or not. He hesitantly took a step forward, but when the Mirror looked up, his face was wet with tears.

"I love…" he whispered.

"Who? Bellatrix?"

Mirror Harry turned away, discreetly wiping away his tears. "I still love… that's all you need to know."

He decided to change subjects, wondering if the wizard would answer his other questions now. "What happened with that Obsidian Stitch thing? You had it once."

Surprisingly, the Mirror answered quickly. "When I knew it was an evil thing I tried to get rid of it." Mirror Harry walked around the bed and sat in the armchair, gazing absent-mindedly at Tristan's bed now. His face was now resolute without emotion. "My father was sleeping here?"

Harry nodded. "If you got rid of it, then why are you so desperately trying to find it again?"

"I'm not trying to find it."

"But you wrote about finding—"

"I don't want it found. I got rid of it for a specific reason."

"You're talking bullshit!"

"Think whatever you want. You're a nuisance. You're nothing, but a weak, fucked up wizard."

"I don't care about what you think of me. The fact that you're trying to throw me off track is suspicious enough," Harry continued. "If the Stitch isn't a werewolf cure, then what does it do? What happened when you touched it?"

"You're not going to give this up are you?"

Harry shook his head. "I'm stuck here. I'm supposed to be helping you, aren't I? Something happened to you before you got that teddy bear Horcrux—something so serious it made you break your ties with Ron and Hermione."

The Mirror laughed. "It was a mission gone wrong in Bulgaria and I was so sick of her pestering—"

"You're lying again! If you want this war to end, then you better start telling me the truth!"

"Maybe I do, maybe I don't," he purred.

"You—I swear—you have been a waste of my time! You change tact every minute. You either help me or not."

Mirror Harry laughed. "Don't be so high and mighty about it, you're slowly turning into me."

"I won't!" Harry spat with determination.

"Like I said, you need to show me you're not."

The silence around them was chilly.

"The Stitch is a Dark power. I had pleaded with Charlie to get rid of it for months and months. When I touched it the first time I saw what I had become. The second time—I could feel it tearing my soul apart. I had only touched it for a second, but it was excruciating—worse than any pain I've ever experienced. I never wanted to see it again."

"Why did it feel like that? Was it actually ripping your soul?"

"My soul has already been shattered," Mirror Harry said. "But yes, along those lines, the Stitch had ripped it…"

This intrigued Harry. What was the Stitch's purpose? He watched his Mirror closely. "Then why did you want it found again?"

Mirror Harry grew frustrated. "I told you, I don't want to find it. The Dark Lord does. That graffiti in Cell Number 13 was not written by me."

"You didn't write it?"

The Mirror narrowed his eyes. "You still haven't figured it out—?"

"Well, why don't you give me a hint?"

Mirror Harry snorted and looked away. "I was delirious."

Harry knew he was lying. Then he remembered his Mirror being tortured by Voldemort. "So you failed him, because you didn't want to give it to him."

"While I still have no clue what the Stitch truly does, it is somehow very important to the Dark Lord."

"How did Voldemort find out?"

"Charlie asked dangerous people questions. Stupid, that he didn't want to chuck it."

"Is this why you really killed Charlie, because he didn't want to get rid of it?"

"Yes, he was an annoying idiot in the end, nosey, and didn't know when the keep his mouth shut. It was for his own good, really. He didn't know what evil he was dealing with, and he would've killed the whole family."

"Hang on…" Harry pointed, spearing the sentence in its wake. "Isn't it your mission to kill your family?"

"It is," the Mirror answered, licking his bottom lip.

His gut feeling was telling him something else, but he didn't prod further, worried he'd end their newfound good terms. "Do you think this Stitch will help Voldemort? He's powerless."

Mirror Harry grinned. "Oh you found out about that, did you? That, I'm afraid, was my fault." And with those last words he disappeared.

"WAIT!" Harry yelled into the air. "Come back!"

Harry suddenly woke, realising he had sat up in bed as he slept, his hand outstretched to the place Mirror Harry had been. He must have yelled out as well.

He blinked, startled that the connection was over. Harry pounded his fists into the mattress, ignoring the fresh wave of pain from his back.

The bedroom door creaked open and Remus peered in. "Are you okay?"

Harry bit his lip, still staring at the spot Mirror Harry had disappeared, which had been somewhere between a pink painting made by Ashley, emblazoned with glittering get well wishes, and a poster of the Holyhead Harpers.

His resolve broke down. "I—stay with me tonight."

Remus sat lightly on his bed. "What's wrong?"

"I spoke with Harry."

The werewolf's eyebrows flicked up, suddenly more curious than worried. "And?"

He could've told him his frustrations straight away; instead, Harry told him what weighed most on his mind.

"I'm worried about this phase I'm going through," he said quickly. "I'm really scared I'm turning bad. I feel I am and I can't control it… I really want to hurt things—people." Harry remembered the time in fifth year when Voldemort had infiltrated his dreams and thoughts, and the stirring of evil he felt. This felt worse.

"Let's go downstairs."

Harry followed him into the kitchen. The florescent light overhead flickered and tinkled as it struggled to turn on. He made himself comfortable at the table, thinking Remus was going to make tea, but watched as he poured a healthy amount of Firewhisky into two mugs.

Harry still hadn't gotten used to the fiery stuff yet. He mistakenly took a gulp and coughed as it burned his throat and chest, making Remus laugh.

He smacked the mug back down, massaging his chest. "I've only drunk it a few times," he replied wheezily, watching Remus drink all of his in one go without any embarrassing reaction.

"Feeling better?" he asked.

Harry nodded, relaxing a little.

"While I can't find anything great written about Mages so far, all I can say is to look deep within your heart. What do you truly feel, Harry? Do you really want to hurt people and torture and kill?"

"Maybe."

"Think hard. Anyone would want revenge on those who have harmed them. But is it really what you want? Would you take that extra step to kill them?"

Harry didn't need to think about this. "No."

"Then there's your answer."

"But I can't stop anything! Those feelings keep appearing and I find myself liking what I do. It's frightening."

"Harry, you need to understand the Dark phase you are experiencing.

"I can't."

"A normal Mage wouldn't experience the amount of emotions you and Harry do. The problem lies with the trauma you have both experienced or inflicted. It just isn't the optimum period to be going through it, therefore, you'll be skewed severely."

"So the happiest of Mages will breeze through it?"

"Precisely… Now, since you are struggling to control it, think about it in a different way, because I can see you're having trouble understanding your power."

"Easier said than done!"

Remus uncorked the Firewhiskey and poured more into their mugs.

"Imagine you're lost in a forest, and instead of finding a way out you are delving deeper within the darkness. It's going to be scary, there will be dangerous creatures and you may get hurt, but that forest is not infinitive. No matter how big that forest is, it'll have to end somewhere. If you keep pushing through, knowing that you'll survive with the resources you have, you will eventually discover the trees thinning and the dangers easing. You will find a way out."

"It feels like a test."

"Well, in a way it is. But you mustn't be scared of it, because denial is not going to make things better for you. You'll end up being stuck in this phase just like Harry has."

"I definitely don't want that to happen," Harry sighed, sipping the whisky this time.

"A Mage is the least understood of all powerful magical abilities. But it's the most powerful because as a fully fledged Mage, you not only would've increased your power beyond measure, but you can manipulate and absorb the essence of every other living thing without killing it, and you'll be able to share your power. To be a fully fledged Mage means you need to be wise, controlled and selfless."

"But I don't know how," Harry blurted. "I never knew _I_ was a Mage until a month ago. I thought I was just absorbing some of Harry's power due to my arrival here and the laws of Mirror Universes."

"But you are a Mage." Remus clasped his hands together. "Harry, you'll need to learn and experience every aspect and perspective the world offers, from good and evil, to life and death, Water and fire, earth and air, flesh and essence. You will discover their secrets and their beauty by touch or by letting yourself be a part of everything."

Just listening to Remus was boggling his brain. He understood everything, but it was just still hard to grasp.

"And to be a true Mage, you mustn't let any one of these aspects take control. Everything has to be a balance. Once you've mastered it, you will be indestructible… if you so wish. But I have heard that to be a true Mage you will need to experience death and therefore die. So it's a twist of the Deathly Hallows," Remus added with a smile.

"So a Mage spends the rest of their life training, only to graduate with death?" Harry snorted into his mug.

"Like I said, your ability is the least understood of all. I find myself struggling with its concepts."

"I don't want this ability. Just the thought of absorbing power, like I did with Bellatrix is—"

"Harry, absorbing power is one aspect which beginner Mages tend to do to nurture the growth of their ability. It's not lasting. The true growth of their power happens from within, once you have conquered the Dark phase."

Harry sighed.

Remus gently pointed at Harry's heart. "Just don't be too hard on yourself. We aren't judging you. We are here to support you through this. You're here with people who care about you, and that's going to make a huge difference."

"Thank you," Harry whispered. He felt such a great relief. "For someone who doesn't know much about Mages, you know quite a bit."

Remus smiled. "I have to admit these are Dumbledore's words not mine. He knew you would have trouble dealing with this, especially since you are experiencing it so rapidly."

"Have you told him everything I've said to you?"

"Yes, Harry. But Dumbledore, like everyone else who knows, doesn't know what the Obsidian Stitch does."

Harry explained all that Mirror Harry said to him when he had touched the Dark object.

"That's interesting, but that could mean anything. We know so little about this Dark artefact, and we just don't have the resources to find out at the moment."

"I think you should find some, because Voldemort wants it badly and if he gets his hands on it, things will be worse for everyone."

The clock chimed. It was two in the morning, but they were still talking. Remus cut them each a slice of sponge cake, licking the cream and jam off his fingers.

"There's something else bothering you, isn't there?"

He nodded. "I have been talking with Harry since Azkaban, and I sometimes feel as though I'm getting nowhere. I haven't got much time left here, yet there's so much more to find out."

"What's his demeanour like when you talk with him?"

"Well, sometimes I walk into the connection worried, because I don't know which side of Harry I'll be encountering. Sometimes he changes mood suddenly. One minute he'll help me, then the next he's being evasively nasty. He's like Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde."

Remus had the sponge cake halfway to his mouth, but he seemed busier ingesting Harry's words than the food. "Odd, but do you see a glimpse of his old personality, like yours?"

He nodded. "Yeah, before the darker side takes over… I know he wants to change and fight this. And sometimes, like tonight, I can sense he is torn about what he should do. He's so hurt. He really hates Dumbledore, which I totally understand. He also gets really fired up when I talk about his family."

"What if," Remus started, swallowing some cake before continuing, "you have succeeded in helping him change and he is the Harry we've always known? What if he's just too scared to let anyone get close to him after all he's done, so he pretends he's unapproachable?"

Harry had never thought about it like that. "Yeah, maybe…"

"He didn't kill Dudley when the opportunity arose. He maimed his little sister instead of killing her. He helped you survive your torture, in fact I know it had drained his life, because James, Dumbledore and Grindelwald had been worried he would not survive it. Harry must have known he could've died helping you."

"Really?"

"Yes… whatever happens within your connection is manifested, like his hands becoming burnt."

Harry remembered that. He originally thought it had been the love of his mother's sacrifice protecting him, but his Mirror said it was because he was invading his mind without the proper steps of doing so. Harry peered beneath his pyjama top and saw a blossoming black bruise appearing over his heart.

"From everything you've told me, it feels as though he's protecting some truth. Because we all know he killed Charlie and opened the Chamber of Secrets, killed Muggles and tortured people. From what Ashley and Tony had described, Harry had also killed Peter."

"Okay, so he's protecting something, what's the point of it all? Why can't he just tell us? That's the only way he'll get closure out of this. Is he frightened to trust us?"

"Yes, that and he's punishing himself for everything he's done."

Harry started swilling the amber liquid in his mug. "Well if he is, then he's been doing an exceptional job for years now."

"But he's done outstandingly well destroying Voldemort's power too! I would like to know how he managed it," Remus added with a sly grin. "And that's one good thing we should toast on before going back to bed.

"I suppose so," Harry said, thinking about how to destroy Voldemort in his world.

"Harry, what if he was testing you?"

"What do you mean?"

"Testing to see if you'd control your power and how far you've progressed? Mocking you to see how fired up you'd get within your phase? After all, you've done it to him tonight."

Harry bit his lip, thinking about his Mirror's sharp tongue and torments. "So you think that while I've been helping him through his phase, he's now helping me through mine?"

"I knew Harry well. At least the little boy I always remembered and the boy who wanted to defeat Voldemort. If he's changed, then he'll be helping you, even though you may think he is doing the opposite."


	28. Dumbledore's Gift

**Dumbledore's Gift**

After drinking whisky in the wee hours of the morning, Harry wasn't feeling well. He sat against a tree, shielding his eyes from the bright, autumn light, and rested his throbbing head.

"You seem distracted today," Demus observed.

"Sorry." He wanted to drown out the Healer's voice and figure out how his Mirror had destroyed Voldemort's power.

Healer Spratt taught him exercises and techniques to follow to overcome his nightmares, and any adverse thoughts and feelings he was experiencing. But half the words were muffled by the feeling in his head, which felt like someone had stuffed cotton wool inside.

His mind drifted off like the kite flying in the distance. Harry then heard Ashley yelling for Tony to run faster so that the kite would go higher.

The little girl seemed to be dealing with her conditioning and parents' deaths, better than Harry thought. Perhaps it was because he learnt that Tony had protected her from most of the Death Eaters harm, taking the brunt of it himself. Besides, the boy still felt betrayed by the Order.

It was Ashley who had wanted to escape Bellatrix's hold, and had urged her brother to take the initiative, but Tony was too shattered to even care at that point.

The children don't know who had opened the door to their locked room at the Malfoy's. But when Ashley saw the opportunity to escape past a sleeping Death Eater, she took charge, and hours after, Harry had met them in the cave. Perhaps it had been fate Harry had found them, because the little girl's split second decision had saved their lives.

"I have a feeling I'd have better luck speaking with a stone wall."

Finally, with a great deal of exasperation, Demus gave up and let Harry go.

"Be back here tomorrow same time."

"Yeah," Harry replied over his shoulder.

The mist was a little thick this morning, and there was the lingering of smoke from more fires which had been lit by Death Eaters. This time the fires were in Chichester and Dorset, killing more Muggles. Harry refrained from asking what was happening, but somehow he'd always find out more than he wished too.

Exhausted, he thought he'd kick up his feet and rest on the couch. Instead, he stopped dead through the doorway of the living room.

Harry had never expected to see Mirror Snape ever again.

Snape scowled, and so did he. He crossed his arms, feeling vulnerable when the Death Eater's eyes roved up and down his body as though amazed he was standing.

"How did you get in here?" Harry spat.

"Lupin let me in, _willingly_."

The Death Eater stood up, and sulked forward, stopping in front of him. Black eyes gazed into his, and Snape's hooked nose was an inch from his face. Harry could smell peppermint on his breath and smoke on his robes. He wondered if he had lit some of the fires plaguing the country.

Harry took a step back, jolting, when his back hit the doorway.

Snape smirked. "You never thanked me for saving your ungrateful life."

"Because," Harry narrowed his eyes venomously, "I bet you did it out of the goodness of your heart."

Snape didn't reply. He walked back to the couch and made himself comfortable again.

Then Remus strolled in, stunned, cutting through the icy air with a tray of tea and biscuits. "Ahhh… you're back… so soon?"

"What the hell is going on here?" Harry yelled angrily. "Why is _he_ here?"

Snape stirred his tea as though this was a casual outing for him. "I've come to tell you I will be teaching you defence tactics—"

"Oh no you're not!" Harry shook a finger into Snape's sallow face. Suddenly all his memories of their Occlumency lessons flooded his mind. "You're going to stay away from me. I don't need you teaching me. Remus can, or, or James—"

"Dumbledore has specifically asked me to teach you."

"Why you?" Harry exasperated. Why was Dumbledore dictating his life and what he must do?

"It's the same question I ask myself every day," Snape sighed, taking a sip.

"Harry, would you like some tea?"

And why was Remus so calm about this little arrangement?

"No! Look, I don't need to be taught Defence Against the Dark Arts. I'm proficient enough. I got an OWL for it—"

"Potter." Snape's voice was smooth, almost a whisper. He had to have been incensed to talk like this. "You will use Defence, and I'll be using the Dark Arts… and if you're not good enough I may end up killing you."

"You've got to be kidding me?" Harry hissed, making his way to the other side of the room to stand near Remus.

"No. Because war is not a game, Potter. People do not get up and walk away from torture and death unscathed like you have experienced. You are not in school anymore under the protection of teachers. Death is real, the Dark Arts dangerous and unless you are totally prepared, you will die."

"I've had enough training—"

"I'm glad you've brought that up. Dumbledore fears you are ill prepared, nor had the time, nor the will and the attention span to acquire the necessary skills— _real_ skills, Potter. You are mediocre at best. You get your feelings in the way, and if you don't sharpen up soon, you'll need to hope that you've got plenty of luck on your side to survive."

Harry clenched his jaw. Snape was right about that. Hadn't he been worried about this for a long time? His friends and others had thought he was powerful, but the reality was he had had a lot of help and luck. His power was no match against Voldemort's and others. Without luck and help, he would've been dead a long time ago.

Yet he wasn't going to give Snape the satisfaction. "I've experienced a lot of what the Dark Arts does."

"I'm sure you have, but Expelliarmus can only get you so far," he mocked.

_Damn Dumbledore!_ He should have never let him see his memories.

"Potter, you can accomplish so much more," Snape added. "If you end up half as proficient as your Mirror, the Dark Lord will have a real enemy to contend with, not just an inexperienced young wizard trying to destroy him."

Snape almost acted as though Harry had some potential and it surprised him.

"Why you?" he asked again. Anger boiled in his veins, not only directed at the Death Eater, but because Dumbledore had planned this without his permission.

"It's because we despise each other. If you can conquer your magic through your emotions, you will survive. Now, I came to discuss when will be the best time to teach you. Are you well enough—?"

Remus furrowed his brow. "No—"

"Yes!" Harry interjected loudly.

"Harry, I don't think you—"

"When do we start?"

Snape curled his lip. I will begin teaching you in two days."

* * *

_"YOU CAN'T KILL HIM!" Cotter screamed. "You don't have the direct order!"_

_"SHUT UP, you thieving bitch!" Gregory Brodes yelled, pointing at her the bloodied wooden weapon Harry had used. "He stabbed me. We have the right to execute without Umbridge's consent. Defy me once more and you'll be next!"_

_"Brodes, don't threaten the other Atoners. But he's right, Cotter," Willis growled, moving forward with a few of the others. "I am the commanding officer and he has the go ahead."_

_Harry shivered, knowing it was the end. He saw Cotter yelling, as two Atoners apprehended her and removed her from the Black Square._

_Brodes crouched down. The Atoner was clutching the wound to his stomach and was out of breath. He held the weapon between them with a chilling sneer on his face._

_"Potter, let me tell you a tale about King Edward the second's death..."_

Harry stared at the ceiling. His bed sheets were tangled around him and he was covered in sweat. He felt his mattress to make sure he was not in the Black Square, but lying comfortably in bed, before deciding to get up and wash while everyone still slept.

He brushed his teeth, remembering his dream—his memory in fact. It made his insides squirm at the very thought of what Brodes had done to him. He shuddered, his anger growing.

There was a sudden splintering of glass. Harry looked up into his own reflection and found a large crack running down the mirror, splitting his face in half.

_"Oww!_ That hurt," the mirror exclaimed.

"Sorry," he mumbled, touching the mirror, using a simple Repairing Spell to mend it. Though his magic, also decided to repair the cracks in the tiles and ceiling as well.

His power was like a child's uncontrollable magic. Sometimes, he half expected the Ministry to swoop down and expel him. That was until Harry realised he was way overage for that sort of nonsense, and this world didn't care about children using magic outside Hogwarts.

He wasn't sure how he'd control it without a wand, and hopefully he'll find out when he'd duel Snape.

Harry walked out of the house and sat down by the old tree where Demus was. He already had his notebook opened.

"As I was discussing yesterday, I wanted you to try some exercises to help overcome your problems."

Harry sighed. He wanted to ignore the memories and anything that would remind him of his experiences. The Healer wanted to do the opposite.

"Why can't I just put my memories in a Pensieve, or, be Obliviated?"

Demus frowned. "I don't want my patients to escape their nightmare, I want them to fight them and win."

The Healer had a good point, but it was the harder way of doing things.

"Besides, with these exercises in conjunction with the _Tantibus Mentis Potion_ I will give you, you will pull through all right."

"Sorry, what's this potion?" Harry sat up straighter.

"Tantibus Mentis is quite a volatile and strong potion to drink, Harry. It is very hard to get a hold of, simply because the ingredients are hard to obtain and it is so high in demand."

"I don't care at this point in time."

Demus rubbed his chin. "I think you will be well suited for the potion along with your mental exercises. You will pull through with only the occasional nightmare. Stress triggers will cause you no harm. Your mood will be better, normal as you always were."

"Right. When do I start?"

"Tonight. I will gradually increase the dosage to its peak in three weeks, and then I will reduce it for a further three weeks."

Harry shook his head. "I haven't got that time."

"I recommend you make that time. This is for your benefit, not mine."

All he wanted was to get back home and fight his own war. Every time there was a glimmer of hope, he was pushed back further and further away from making his way back.

That evening, before going to bed, Demus carefully measured a teaspoon of a smoking lavender potion. And as its colour suggested, it tasted like lavender and cream. He didn't feel any different afterwards. He still felt hopeless and bleak.

As Demus left, Ashley peeked in the doorway, wringing her hands. Her brown hair was long enough to be tied back into two pigtails now. Her blue eyes scanned the room, hesitantly.

"Hello Ash," Harry said, yawning. "What's wrong?"

"Ha-Harry, I was wondering… are you better?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Then, can you tell me a story?"

"All right, but only a short one, because it's way past your bedtime."

"Okay… and no scary things, I want a nice one to dream about."

He smiled, hoping the potion he had just drunk would help too with his dreams too tonight.

* * *

It was during his fifth session with Demus did Harry feel comfortable enough to start talking about what had happened to him.

"How did you sleep last night?"

Harry shrugged. "No different to any other night."

"A teaspoon of potion isn't going to get rid of your nightmares straight away. You will begin seeing a change in a few days." The Healer's quill hovered over a blank new page of his notebook.

"What happens if your notebook falls into the wrong hands?" Harry asked, suddenly frightful that his secret would be made known.

"I don't use names. I write in code and if this book is stolen, it will instantly burst into cursed flames."

"A neat little trick," he mused. Like the Healer, Harry didn't use the real names of his friends and loved ones, for all Demus knew, these people were Death Eaters.

"Now, tell me a little more about Azkaban. What were the other prisoners like?"

The first person that popped into his head was Dung. Harry spoke of his guilt letting Mandungus die and his torture. He spoke about how Yaxley protected him. Then he spoke about the female prisoner who died from a disease, and the others getting infected. Then Brodes always appeared, and the fear of Ginny ever finding out about his assaults weighed heavily on his mind.

Demus closed his notebook, eyes searching Harry's as though trying to make sense of the fear Harry felt. "You're not alone in this. But I'm not going to lie to you. People you are close to will be horrified once you tell them. They will not know how they should treat you and may not even look you in the eye."

"They should treat me like I ever was!" Harry said, aghast.

"There are two ways people will deal with such news. First, it's human nature to pull up a barrier, to deny, and to reject, because they may not know how to deal with such horror at first. It will be a shock, and they don't want to hurt you further. Secondly, there are those individuals who will do everything to help you, to protect you, to the point you may feel mollycoddled."

Harry thought about who would do what once he would tell his friends. Ron would be hesitant; he wouldn't know what to do, but he'll be there for him, even though he won't look him in the eye. Hermione would be helping him. Molly Weasley on the other hand, would not let him out of her sight. Ginny…?

Harry nodded. "She'll be there for me no matter what."

By the end of the session, he had a feeling of happiness and serenity feel him, something which he hadn't experienced in awhile. He knew this feeling wouldn't last, knowing that in the afternoon he'd be facing Snape.

Lunch was a quick affair. Harry left Ashley and Tony with Remus for their lesson in Transfiguration. Tony was becoming interested in the Animagus ability, but Remus was reluctant to teach him.

"He'll be near the shed," Remus spoke.

Harry watched Ashley trying desperately to turn a matchstick into parchment. It put a smile on his face.

"All right," he sighed, focusing back to his situation. He scuffled his feet on the rug, not at the least bit interested in meeting Snape for the lesson, and tapped his cane impatiently.

"Ouch!" He cringed suddenly. His scar prickled with pain.

Luckily, Remus didn't notice as he was trying not to get his eye poked out by Ashley's wand.

Harry didn't move for awhile. He was a little worried about his scar pain, which only meant bad things were about to happen.

Then Remus looked up, surprised he was still there. "Just remember you're still fatigued and weak, so tell him if you need rest—"

"HA!" he laughed, ignoring his scar. "I won't tell him anything."

Remus frowned. "You're like your father."

"And Snape is… _Snape_!"

Finally, he trudged up the back garden and down a small hill. He felt vulnerable. He was still in the infancy of his newfound ability and he wasn't sure how well he'd do, especially against a deadly, experienced Death Eater like Snape.

Behind a row of wild hawthorn, there was a little wooden shed where Snape would be waiting. But Harry stopped, knees buckling a little when his lightning bolt scar seared in pain. He rubbed it furiously. When the pain went, he hesitantly walked again, before the next wave of pain hit him with full force.

"Not here," Harry whispered to himself. He could see a figure standing outside the shed. Then the screaming in his head started.

His whole world drifted out of focus and the next thing, he realised his long white fingers were grasping the jaw of Professor Trelawney. Her eyes were rolling, and her face was covered in blood and tears.

"I ask you Sybil, what is the second prophecy about?"

"I—I—I don't know," she gasped. "Please, I don't know anything," she sobbed.

Trelawney screamed, when Voldemort tried to extract the memories, but all he could see, as he possessed Voldemort was flickers of muffled words and Dumbledore's rippling face looking shocked. There was nothing understandable to be plucked from her memory.

Voldemort kept trying. Soon Trelawney succumbed to his invading torture and fell unconscious.

"Potter?"

Harry felt a hard slap on his cheek and he dizzily opened his eyes to find Snape's face hovering above him. The curtain of black hair masked out the bright light.

He pushed Snape away, and pulled himself up. He groaned, touching his aching scar as he tried remembering his vision.

"What happened? Shall I call the Atoner?"

"He's got Trelawney! He's torturing her—trying to extract information about a prophecy."

Snape's eyes locked onto his, again with that judging look, trying to read him. "How do you know?"

"I see things."

Snape's eyes travelled up to his scar, and Harry instinctively covered it.

"We know the Dark Lord has Sybil. We know why he wants her. So save your energy telling me."

"What's this second prophecy about?"

"That's for Dumbledore to tell you. I don't know either."

"Why aren't you helping her?"

"I cannot intervene without giving myself away. I've done too much to earn mistrust."

"But—but someone has to help her! He's going to kill her. He'll find out everything."

"Trelawney's prophecies were not her own to remember. She channels—is possessed by ancient spirits that divulge such knowledge. She is nothing but a vassal, and the Dark Lord will never get the information he seeks. Someone will rescue her."

"Who—?"

"Are you well enough to start or are you too weak?"

Harry got up with the aid of his cane, still a little flummoxed as to why no one was helping the seer. He ignored a fresh wave of pain from his cursed injuries and another jolt of pain from his scar.

But like the fires spreading in the country, Harry thought to himself that he needed to keep himself distanced from this war, and those harmed by it.

He was staring down at Snape, who remained crouched on the ground. He was determined to show the Death Eater that he was strong.

Snape slowly stood up. He was a foot taller than Harry and looked as though he took pleasure staring down now.

With a swipe of his wand, the shed door opened. "Get inside. You've wasted too much of my time."

He whirled around, his black cloak twisting, and Harry begrudgingly followed behind, refraining from throwing retorts. His head was still swimming, and he thought that he may live to regret this. Wishing, that maybe, he should've put his pride to one side and called in Cotter to check him over, if it meant skiving off for one more day.

Snape switched the light on. What looked like a small shed from the outside was vastly bigger on the inside, just like the tent he had kipped in with Ron and Hermione. Remus had stores of tinned food within, paints and tools. There was an old lawnmower and boxes of useless things. Fertiliser and gardening equipment littered the corners haphazardly, and empty plant pots sat precariously stacked on top of each other.

Snape took off his travelling gloves and cloak, placing them neatly on an old armchair.

Harry stood near the door, near the escape route. He stood still though, not sure how to deal with this. He tried remembering how he reacted during his first Occlumency lesson, but that was years ago, and the thought of Trelawney screaming fogged his mind.

"Er…" Harry tried clearing his mind for the onslaught of curses and hexes. His scar was still aching. "You know, I don't have a wand—"

"You don't need it. In fact harnessing your power without a wand will make you stronger, something which your Mirror failed to accomplish."

He disagreed. "I think he's deadly enough…"

"He still needs a wand to use the deadliest of Dark Arts."

"Well, I plan never to use the Dark Arts." _Again_ … "My heart's never been in it."

Harry's words drifted off as Snape gave him an odd calculating look as though he had suddenly realised something monumental. Harry looked away in case he was trying to read his mind.

"Interesting," he said silkily. "Nevertheless, you will fight back."

"But I'm not sure how to control my power."

"We'll worry about that later. For now, I want to see how far you've progressed within the phase."

Harry didn't like the sound of this. He thought Snape would at least show him how.

Snape rolled his wand, pensively between his fingers. "Dumbledore thinks his Mirror could've prepared you a lot better."

"He knew he failed." Harry nodded, suddenly seeing an image of Sirius falling gracefully into the veil.

"He wasted so many opportunities to teach you until it was too late."

"But he taught me enough to beat Voldemort."

"Did he really?" Snape questioned. "Just like your Mirror?"

"How is he?"

"Still sleeping," Snape replied. "Do you have contact with him?"

"Not much, lately." Harry hesitated. "How are you keeping Pritchard from knowing he's not me?"

"I have the Patil twins run their observation charms whenever Pritchard comes around. I always have more than enough whiskey on hand, so that by the time he does check Potter, he is too drunk to even see straight."

"Always full of plans…" Now he knew that the Patil twins knew that there are two of them. "Aren't you risking you lives being here?"

"Draco and Blaise are watching him. They'll contact me if anything is wrong."

Then Snape walked into the light the one bulb emitted so that Harry saw his face. "I accepted Dumbledore's offer to teach you, because I want to know what you see in your Mirror's thick skull."

"Ahhh, so you're nosing around in other people's business?" He sneered. "Well I'm not going to tell you."

"I don't care why Potter turned." Snape walked closer. "I want to know why he hates Dumbledore so much."

Harry snorted as Snape invaded his personal space. "You and me both. I don't know—"

"Potter, I care about Dumbledore."

"Yeah, you cared about him enough to kill him—"

"He is my friend. I fear for him and what he's doing. What he did to you was something that we all regret. It was a decision that has stirred doubt in his abilities and decisions. I'm sure you are angry about it."

"More than angry, Snape!" Harry just wanted to smash that fake concern off his face. The light bulb and a dirty small window exploded in his fury. "YOU KILLED HIM IN FRONT OF MY EYES! HE PLEADED WITH YOU—"

"You don't know Dumbledore well enough to make that judgement, so don't call me a murderer," he smoothly retaliated. He raised his wand. "And Dumbledore is alive here, so don't confuse yourself. Now…" he purred deviously, "I think you're quite ready."

Heart pounding in anger, Harry had barely enough time to react as a red hot spell sizzled directly at his chest. He ducked in time before it slashed the wood of the doorway.

"WAIT!" he yelled, falling to the ground, knocking over tins of paint, his cane clattering by his side.

Another spell exploded near his ear, before he had the chance to steady himself. Gardening tools fell onto his head.

"STOP!"

" _Pathetic!"_ Snape hissed with loathing, his wand pointed into Harry's face now _._ "You are meant to use Defence, Potter, not duck from my spells."

Harry panted, feeling anger and disgust with himself. He wondered if Snape was hell bent on killing him.

He got up, trying to albeit his panic, still feeling helpless without the security of a wand. He stared at the scorch slash marks on the door, which had burnt all the way through. "Was that the Sectumsempra Curse?"

"I see you know more of the Dark Arts than I expected—"

"You mean your spell? In fact, should I call you the Half-Blood Prince?"

Harry knew Snape didn't expect him to know his little secret. With great delight, he watched Snape falter.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," he answered, raising his wand. "Ready yourself. And remember, the Dark Lord will never give you the time to defend yourself like I am."

* * *

Harry pressed the icepack on his forehead as Cotter mended his broken bones. She was more than furious.

"I can't believe this!" she seethed, shaking her head at his injuries. He cringed as she healed a nasty cut on his arm. "You haven't even recovered from your torture in Azkaban!"

Remus sighed, and Harry wished he wouldn't. "I did say—"

"Save it! I wanted to see what would happen."

He was so angry at himself for failing so abysmally at defending himself. He was good, but not that good and not quick enough against a seasoned wizard like Snape.

Every time he used a spell, the magic was so uncontrolled and unfocused that the entire shed was in ruins by the end of the lesson. A simple Disarming Spell not only meant that Snape's wand flew into the air and into Harry's grasp, but half the contents of the shed would be hurled at him as well. A Stunning Hex almost knocked Snape out, but also the shelf behind him, burst into violet flames. And when Harry hexed Snape with an easy _Petrificus Totalis,_ everything in the shed turned to stone.

_"You definitely have power…but not the focus of it."_

"Oh I'm going to have a word with Dumbledore about this. Oh no, he's not going to put you through that again on my watch."

"No let him. I want to get better. I need to. I promise you, you won't need to heal me next time," he said, determined.

"He'll kill you."

"Please, I'm really tired. I just don't want to think about Snape anymore." He knew if he had a wand he would've done much better.

Cotter gave Harry two tablespoons of the Tantibus Mentis Potion. His head barely hit the pillow before he started dreaming.

The nightmares were sparse but they all included Snape. This time the mirror appeared and finally, he gave in.

He dived into the mirror and found himself back in the Potter's backyard. Behind the yew tree, Harry heard sniffling. He strolled around it and found the sixteen year old Mirror cradling his dead tabby cat in his arms. His wand had been thrown eight feet away and lay in a muddy puddle.

"I'm so sorry, Milly, I'm so sorry… but… I had to do it… I needed to… I couldn't get rid of the feelings… I'm so sorry."

On the shed to his right, there was a mirror. Harry knew the drill. But he couldn't help feel the same way about those ants he almost killed a few days ago, and how easy it was to hurt his Mirror and take relish in it.

He stepped into a breezy town and he could just see a yellow dot of the sun in the sky, poking through the Dementor mist. Even though there were few people around, and many of the shops closed, Harry recognised the High Street of Hogsmeade.

Outside Honeydukes, the thirteen year old Harry Potter and Ron Weasley stood goggling at the myriad colourful sweets within.

_"Pheowww,_ check out that Levitating Humbug… a whole gentle ten foot float. I don't have much on me, but—'

"Don't worry, Ron, I've got loads. Let's go in."

There was a large amount of giggling within the store as the front door tingled and opened. Hermione, Parvati and Lavender left with bags of sweets. Hermione waved to them, telling them to meet her and the girls at Madam Rosmerta's pub.

The boys were about to enter Honeydukes when someone called out for Harry.

It was Dumbledore, dressed in forest green robes and a travelling cloak. He strolled to them, past a dozen cloaked students who were bantering along.

"Good Morning, Professor," both boys replied.

"I'm sorry to intrude on this most auspicious day. I still remember my very first Hogsmeade visit. I had too much butterbeer and ended up in the Hospital Wing." His mustachio quivered, and both boys grinned. "Nevertheless, Mr Weasley, I'm wondering if I can pull Mr Potter away for a chat. I won't keep him long."

Mirror Harry pulled out six gold galleons from his pocket and gave them to Ron. "Here, go for your life. It's got to last until we next visit."

Ron took off, meeting up with Dean and Seamus, who were about to get lost in the wonderful world of sugary delights.

"Let's go down this quiet street," Dumbledore pointed. "There is a small ice cream parlour on the other side. And as I do recall from our previous ice cream adventure, you are fond of chocolate and raspberry swirl."

Dumbledore motioned for the Mirror to walk first along a winding cobbled street with medieval looking houses that badly needed a lick of paint.

"Er… so, what's this about, sir?" the boy asked as he slurped at his ice cream.

As Dumbledore guessed, there was a scoop of chocolate and raspberry, finished off with whipped cream and hot fudge.

"I was craving a milkshake and we need to talk."

Harry gingerly sat on the table near them, watching the two stare at each other. He could feel Mirror Harry's weariness of the situation.

Dumbledore sipped his vanilla malt milkshake. "The last time we spoke over ice cream you were eight years old—only a child. Do you remember what we discussed, Harry?"

"Yeah, the war and stuff, and you told me that prophecy about Voldemort that involved me and another boy. And that I will have to fight one day."

"I also told you, that you need not worry about it until you were much older. But I think you are ready to start preparing for your part in the war."

Mirror Harry gulped, eyes wide now, his ice cream dripping onto his hand.

Dumbledore smiled. "Don't worry, Harry. I will be with you every step of the way. I know you are scared, but defeating Voldemort will not occur tomorrow or a month from now. It will be years until you're ready."

The boy fell silent, his ice cream now totally forgotten.

"It is a great burden you must bear, I will not lie, but you cannot remain an innocent child of this war any longer. Things will begin to change for you because Voldemort who has kept quiet in your existence is beginning to notice you for the threat you pose."

"What threat?" Mirror Harry recoiled. "I haven't done anything to him! I'm just me. All I want to do is have fun with my friends and study magic. I don't have any power the Dark Lord doesn't have. I'm not powerful—I don't have any talents—"

"No Harry," Dumbledore shook his head, "I have watched you grow, and I have seen you at your schoolwork. You have great potential to be someone great, someone to fear, more powerful than I could even imagine being. You are at the top of your year in Defence. Your Charms are brilliant, and you have an ability which you have not explored, but I know you have tested its strength against that Slytherin boy, Marcus Flint two weeks ago, absorbing his power. It earned you a month's worth of detentions with Professor Snape. In fact I'm quite surprised he had forgotten about these Hogsmeade trips. He would've loved the opportunity to keep you from coming…" his blue eyes twinkled in amusement. "Harry, you are a born Mage."

"Mage? Is that what that power was?"

"Part of it, yes… but you have forgotten. Absorbing the power of living things stimulates your natural ability. You displayed the signs as a young boy. It is now time for you to use it to its full potential. I will help you."

"Alright..."

"There will be several phases that you will encounter as a Mage. The very first, is the Dark phase, otherwise known as the _Amarus_ level in the Mage circle. The original ancient names the Greeks had given the phases, have since been lost with time. But I must say this; you cannot bypass the Amarus level as you can do with the others. It is the phase which helps you to gain power by distorting your soul, allowing it to absorb magic and make your own. Because of this, it is a dangerous level."

"Why?"

"It is not called the Dark phase without reason, Harry. It is the only phase where Mages, without proper guidance and skill, can become infatuated with darkness, because their soul becomes vulnerable to all sources of power, including evil. It can destroy you."

Mirror Harry nodded. "And then what?"

"Passing it, you will become a fully fledged Mage, however if you wish to continue there are other phases to conquer to develop your powers even more. There is also the Light phase: the _Lucem level_ : A level where you help people in time of need. Others include the _Animus:_ the Heart Phase, where love is a power that will help you fight evil. _The Marmor:_ the Stone Phase. Using the earth and its elements and to experience the beauty of nature. _Inmolatio:_ the Sacrafice Phase _._ Any form of sacrifice to help others is an act of true Animus and your power will be revered. There are others like the _Jactura, Unda, Zephyrus, Occasus_. But you have your whole life to explore and learn. But first, we must develop your ability and pass the first phase so that you can at least match Voldemort's power."

"I understand."

Silence permeated between the two. Mirror Harry gazed absent-mindedly at his melting ice cream, and Harry could feel the boy's fear and curiosity.

"Harry, the Marcus Flint incident has Voldemort stirring. He murdered a baby in the past, so he will have no qualms murdering a thirteen year old wizard. There are spies within the school watching you and sending him reports. You cannot hide any longer. It is time for action."

"People are watching me?"

Dumbledore nodded, stirring his milkshake. The boy looked horrified.

"I will tell you everything about Voldemort and his history… I have reason to believe that he had made preparations to keep himself immortal."

" _Immortal_?" the boy stated, frightened. "How do you know?"

"An old colleague of mine, Horace Slughorn, was almost killed a few months ago. He had been in hiding for over twenty years, frightened that Voldemort would kill him for the knowledge he possessed. He had been right. The incident left him scarred and he told me some curious things about Voldemort."

"Er… w-when do we start?"

"Tonight… And Harry there is something else I must tell you."

The boy looked up expectantly now, his green eyes bright.

"The wand you possess with a feather from my phoenix—the Yew and Phoenix—"

"What of it?"

"What I will tell you, must remain between us. There were in fact, two wands made using two feathers Fawkes had produced. One is Holly and Phoenix, the other Yew and Phoenix. The wand you possess once belonged to Voldemort."

"What? Ollivander never told me this!"

"Voldemort had put his wand back in Ollivander's shop, Obliviating the wandmaker and Imperiousing him to make him try the Yew and Phoenix wand on any eleven year old boy who walked through his store. This all happened after Voldemort had murdered Neville Longbottom and his family."

"But… why?" The Mirror looked absolutely terrified.

"He wanted to know if there was someone who could yield it and therefore challenge his power… he was always worried about you. Instead of wasting resources and time finding you, as he did with Neville, he decided to wait and see."

"That's insane—!"

"Every moment you breathe, Harry, the more paranoid he becomes. However, could you imagine his fear when he discovered that his wand, out of a thousand boys it was tested on over the years, ended up choosing you, reinstating the fact that he had killed the wrong boy? And while you have his wand Harry, you must remember that its allegiance still belongs to Voldemort. And when the time comes for you to defeat him, using that wand may be detrimental to you."

"Where's the Holly and Phoenix one? Perhaps that wand truly belongs to me."

"Voldemort stole it from Ollivanders. He knew it existed, because Ollivander told him about it when he was eleven. The Holly and Phoenix wand is powerful, even though the holly's nature does not quite suit Voldemort's character."

"I can't believe I have his wand. But—but why does it work for me? Am I like him?"

"You are not like Voldemort. You are better than him. The wand chose you, in absence of the Holly and Phoenix one. Its core had been drawn to you. Like you said, I think the Holly and Phoenix wand would've been yours. Let us concentrate on your Mage ability. You will have no need for a wand then."

Out of the corner of Harry's eye, near the ice cream parlour's door shone a mirror. The memory was over.

Harry stood there thinking that Voldemort was losing his marbles.

He ventured through the new Mirror, and was disappointed when pulled himself into his bedroom. Harry flopped onto his armchair, thinking. _So the Yew and Phoenix had never truly belonged to my Mirror._ Still, he felt uneasy and even frightened at how the wand had connected with him.

Harry opened his eyes to dawn light as a roster crowed somewhere in the Dales. His eyesight adjusted to the shadows of the room and suddenly, he noticed that there was somebody else in his bedroom. A red-hired figure was sitting down on the other bed.

He jolted, suddenly alarmed, but a flicker of hope burst into flame. "Ron?" Harry questioned with a croaky voice.

"Yeah, it's me Harry." His head was cocked to the side, and he had a crooked smile on his face.

Harry's heart leapt. Had his travel to a Mirror Universe been nothing more than a horrible nightmare?

"Ron, you will never believe the dream I had! It was awful. I was Portkeyed to another universe and the world was just evil and frightening. And I was mistaken for a Death Eater—"

"Yeah that's all real, mate, and you're still in it."

Harry sat up too fast that his head spun, and his back was on fire again. He cringed in pain, and through teary eyes he saw that Mirror Ron was staring at him like he was an interesting curio.

He had almost thought it was all over. _That was cruel._

"You look exactly like Harry," Mirror Ron said.

"And you look exactly like Ron."

"Excellent!" he said happily, slapping a hand on his thigh.

"Er, what are you doing here?"

"Dumbledore told me all about you and thought you could use with some familiar company."

Harry scowled. The slight moment of happiness seeing Mirror Ron dissipated. He kicked away the pillow between his thighs and fluffed up the one underneath his head. "Did he now?"

"Er, yeah, and to tell you the truth, I _really_ wanted to see you."

"I don't want you to be here," Harry said, his words filled with venom. He didn't want any more involvement with Dumbledore, and he knew that Ron was going to be used by him.

"James is back with his family and Remus is still weak. You and the kids need some company."

"I don't need you to be here. I don't need anymore help."

Mirror Ron shrugged. "All right, if that's what you want, I'll go. You can just keep staring at the walls all day long." He picked up his rucksack from the bed. "I'll take my chess, my bottles of Firewiskey, and Wizard's Wand Mags—and believe me Harry, the witches in those mags are _fucking_ hot—and I'll head right on home."

Seeing Ron, even though he was a Mirror, had really perked his interest. Harry reconsidered before the wizard left. "Wait. OK, stay."

Ron chuckled, taking his hand off the doorknob. "Wizard's Wand Magazines always does the trick. Harry and I used to sneak em' into Hogwarts after every trip to Hogsmeade. Sadly, one day in fourth year, Filch confiscated them. We ended up with detention for a whole month."

"What Quidditch team do you go for?" He sat up slowly this time, drinking in Ron's tall lanky frame, the flaming red hair, long nose and freckles. God, Harry missed _his_ Ron so much.

"Are you mental? I thought you are best mates with Ron?" The boy looked at him as though he had gone mad. "Chudley Canons, of course!"

"Just making sure," Harry smiled, "I think we're gonna' get along just fine."

They were chatting away as Ron pulled his things out of his bag. It was the first time since Azkaban did Harry really want to talk and just be himself. He even missed his best friend's swearing.

Ron put away his clothes with a liquorice wand hanging out of his mouth. "Ahh, shit!" he said, suddenly rummaging through his bag. "By the way, Dumbledore sent you a gift." He placed the wrapped box on Harry's bed.

"I'm not interested."

"Well, er, can I open it for you?" He looked more curious than Harry was about it.

"Sure…" Harry turned away, his arms tightly crossed.

Ron leapt forward excited, and ripped the wrapping off the box. He sat down on his own bed and pulled off the cover. He looked inside the box intensely for a moment, intrigued, perhaps confused, making Harry raise an eyebrow. Ron picked up a note and read it silently, then passed it to him with a _please explain_ look on his face.

_Mr Weasley had found this useful in your world._

_You may find it just as illuminating._

Harry didn't need to see what Dumbledore was talking about. Ron pulled the object from the box and fiddled with its knobs. With a click, the lights of the room suddenly went out and the orbs of light sped into the Put-Outer.


	29. Chickens Under Attack

**Chickens Under Attack**

"The child?"

Severus inhaled deeply. "I haven't been able to track her down my Lord, yet."

The Dark Lord's nostrils flared beneath his heavy, black hooded cloak. Severus felt suddenly nervous for his situation. The walls of the headmaster's office felt as though they were enclosing in on him.

"I have word that Lily Potter and the children have suddenly moved from Headquarters—vanished! No one knows their location, even the father."

"Oh, you have word?" he asked, feigning surprise. Dumbledore was very right about the spy. And luckily for Severus, Lily and her family had moved just in time. He was sure his master would've killed him, and had the spy abduct the girl instead.

"I have been lucky… _very_ lucky," the Dark Lord hissed.

He bit his tongue. He wanted to ask, but to do it, would jeopardise his position. "I will track their movements my Lord, perhaps they've left clues."

"Yes you will, Severus. And this time, you will succeed," he threatened. The Dark Lord opened the door and motioned for him to walk through first. "I have a request for you tonight."

His heart was thumping. "Of course, my Lord." He bowed lightly.

"Revive Sybil Trelawney for me, if you can. I am not done with her yet. I want to know what this second prophecy was about."

* * *

There was a flurry in Dumbledore's kitchen, and Severus noticed a disgusting smell emanating from a cauldron. "Albus, I came to speak with you about—"

"Quick, help me with this potion." There was a twirl of robes and a blur of Dumbledore's white beard flying behind him.

Severus sniffed the Polyjuice potion bubbling away on the stove. It was boiling vigorously and it was endanger of turning grey, which would be disastrous. The resultant muck would burn the insides of the wizard stupid enough to drink it. The Order was running low on the potion, but this time Severus didn't have the time to make a new batch.

"I suggest you add a sprinkle off rosemary to calm the mixture."

"Rosemary?" Dumbledore questioned with surprise, as he wafted the acrid steam away from his face. "That's rather unconventional."

"It will work. But do it quickly." Severus pointing to several bunches of different dried herbs hanging above them. "Dried will work fine, and stir counter-clockwise five times, slowly."

Moustache quivering, Dumbledore nimbly picked a few sprigs of rosemary before stirring them in. A brilliant flash of green sparks flew out of the cauldron, and they watched the mixture calm down, turning a thick, dark green once more. Judging by the colour, it would be another week before the potion would be ready.

Dumbledore relaxed. "I'm not as proficient as you in Potions. And to see it fail would put us back another month."

"Hence the reason _I_ am the Potions Master." Severus crossed his arms, and paced the kitchen. "Albus I came—"

"Is the boy progressing?' Dumbledore interrupted, adjusting the temperature of the stove before moving away.

"Which one?"

"The Mirror. You injured him yesterday. In fact I was almost hexed by Agnes about it."

"It is not my fault he's useless."

"Severus, must you be so firm?" Dumbledore said, peering at him through half-moon spectacles. "It's not a battle."

"I'm only preparing him for what's to come. But we didn't use spells today. I moved the training into Lupin's yard. I've decided to strengthen his reflexes, get him strong again. Teach him to dodge spells and such. Physically, he is in a very poor condition."

"And his power?"

"Exceptional, but he needs to control his ability first which may take awhile, considering that the only other Mage available to learn from, is an arrogant, dangerous, self entitled twit, who I'm sure is giving this boy a lot of trouble through that connection of theirs."

"There is a meditation technique Tibetan wizards use before using a strong spell. It helps them to control their magic and increase the potency of it. You may want to try it out. It may help Harry focus more."

"The same one you used while you were recovering from your defeat?"

Dumbledore nodded. "It helps." He opened a tin of gingersnaps and shook the tin at Severus to help himself. "These are fresh from Minerva's Kitchen. It is a new recipe of hers."

"Since Hogwarts closed, why are we so focused on cooking and baking?" he questioned, sniffing a biscuit.

Dumbledore chuckled. "I guess it is our way of adding a little light to the darkness."

When he thought of the other faculty members, like Minerva baking, or Filius's cakes and that ridiculous pink floral apron he wears on occasion, or even Hagrid's awful food, Severus could only cook to avoid starving to death. He would rather use his skills to brew potions.

"Anything else about the boy you'd like to discuss?"

Finishing the biscuit in haste, which was marginally better than Minerva's previous versions, he asked, "this bizarre vision the boy had about the Dark Lord—"

"—Is not our concern—"

"How so?" He was intrigued. "Is the boy a seer? Is it part of being a Mage, or is it something far more sinister than that? It seems that that lightning bolt scar pains him. I asked him about it today. He's had visions in his own world, but he was hesitant to speak about it."

It took a moment for Dumbledore to respond. "Harry has a unique connection with Lord Voldemort. However, this problem stemmed from his world, not ours. So it is not a problem you should meddle in."

"Wouldn't dream of it," said Severus gladly. "Still, it's interesting that he has this connection. Do you have any idea what caused it?"

"Vaguely…" he responded, though he did not elaborate. "You know Severus, sometimes, you give me the impression you like the boys."

"Your impression is sadly mistaken. I am merely gathering the facts about this odd little curiosity—it is not everyday someone travels Mirror Universes."

Now Severus really wanted to discuss more pressing issues. "The primary reason I have come to speak with you—before being interrupted—is Sybil," he stated darkly.

Dumbledore sat down at his table, looking up. "We had a meeting about her today, with a few select members. You know my fears about the spy—"

"There is a spy. The Dark Lord confirmed it. Someone told him that Lily and the children had fled the Order."

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. It was a true, cheeky twinkle that Severus had not seen for a long time.

"Excellent. And hopefully we will know who it is in days. But don't worry, Severus, they are safe. And now, so are you."

"I don't doubt you."

"Now, Minerva, Pomona and a few others will try to infiltrate Hogwarts tomorrow night to rescue Sybil. Hogsmeade is untouchable, so we will need to tiptoe around it. It has become more decrepit and debauched than Knockturn Alley."

Severus tried to speak, but Dumbledore raised his hand.

"Let me finish. There is secret passage to Hogwarts the Death Eaters are not aware of, although the Weasley twins have said that it is obstructed, but I am sure we will find a way—"

"Call it off!"

Dumbledore knitted his brow. "Why?"

"Albus, the Dark Lord has broken her mind. I saw her in the dungeons this evening. The Dark Lord wanted to see if I could revive her with potions. She was unresponsive, did not acknowledge I was there. She is almost dead."

"I'll contact the Order. We'll need to get her out tonight—"

"You can't!" Severus said adamantly. "And there is too much security around her, that breaking her out would kill everyone in the rescue party."

The staunch resolve washed away and a saddened look replaced it on Dumbledore's face. Severus knew he was going through a lot of inner turmoil. The old wizard seemed lost as to what to do.

"Do you think it's too late?"

Severus nodded. "I think she will be killed tonight. She is useless now."

Dumbledore looked distressed. "She never had a strong will. Perhaps I should've risked the Conditioned—"

"No you couldn't have. There's too much at stake here. She is a casualty we have to face. Hogwarts is impenetrable and… you cannot save everyone."

"She is a seer. I was meant to protect her. I can't let her suffer, die."

"Yet, you forced an innocent boy to endure Azkaban when you could've gotten him out! You turned a blind eye to the rape and torture he suffered and all for what? So our Prodigal son could turn to the light again? So he could remain close to—to _Voldemort_?"

Dumbledore bowed his head, crestfallen, but Severus continued with his barrage of words.

"You destroyed him, Albus. In fact, I'm surprised he hasn't up and left, seeking support elsewhere. I would, and I know his Mirror would if he was awake."

"The boy is no stranger to hardship. But he is more like his mother than his Mirror. I suspect that day Voldemort had killed her, her sacrifice helped him more than he imagined. There is more love and compassion that keeps him grounded, and I think this is what will help him through this. But I know he hates me."

"Well, that is an understatement!" Severus growled. "And why only rescue Sybil? What about the Ministry workers imprisoned there, and the Healers from St Mungos, and the children recently abducted—I'm sure you're interested in rescuing those Swedish students which have been smuggled here in the last day to be Conditioned. When ready, they'll be sent back to infiltrate Beauxbatons. What about them?"

His words drifted off, when Dumbledore covered his face with a robe sleeve. He had never in his years of service seen Dumbledore cry. Never once seen tears in his eyes.

"Albus, I'm—"

"No, I deserve it." He looked up, his face now resolute. "You're right. I cannot risk saving Sybil. As for the others, it will be a logistical nightmare. We'd be dead within seconds entering the castle."

Severus was in shock. "You… you think I'm right?"

Dumbledore sighed.

"What about Potter? About where this war is heading?"

"There is no right time to end the war, and no wrong time to do so," Dumbledore explained.

His voice was so quiet. Severus had to lean in to hear it.

"It just needs to end with the maximum knowledge, surprise and resources to do so. Harry must turn, yet remain loyal to Voldemort."

"If it all goes according to your plan… What if he wakes up and decides to let us rot in hell?"

"It is a risk we must face." Dumbledore looked so weary now and frail. His voice seemed heavily strained with the weight of guilt crushing him.

"What about _my_ loyalty to my master? I've said this before; Potter is too far in the deep end to be saved. But I could kill the Dark Lord—"

Dumbledore shook his head. "It must be Harry. Harry is the only one, besides me who knows Voldemort for what he was and is today. He knows him and the perfect time to end it. He must be at his side."

"I still don't think it will work," Severus exasperated.

"Before the suffering Harry had inflicted on his family and others, he left us one last legacy—the reason why Voldemort must drink unicorn blood—Harry had destroyed his power."

Severus was surprised now. "It was him?"

Dumbledore nodded. "It must be Harry who ends this war."

"But I could end him right now!" Severus said.

"No. You could kill him, but it'll all be in vain."

"Care to explain?" he asked, hoping for an answer.

"Unfortunately, I cannot put all my eggs in the same basket and…" He smiled sadly. "I cannot lose you."

He snorted, turning away. "You can't lose me because I am too close to Voldemort. You need me in the thick of it."

"No," Dumbledore responded softly, his hand now on Severus's arm. "I can't lose you because you are like a son to me."

He opened and closed his mouth lost for words. Did Dumbledore really mean it? Severus's own bastard of a father had left him and his mother when he was fourteen, and good riddance.

Dumbledore patted his hand, and Severus closed his mouth. He must have looked like a gawping fish.

Then the old wizard sighed. "It is a sad night. But I must get back to the Chickens and help them gather the eggs. I think it will be an interesting night."

* * *

Nothing moved in the landscape. They were somewhere in North Cumbria, as they waited for the International Aurors to arrive.

James checked his watch. He hadn't been there for long with only Emmeline and Bill to keep him company. There was no wand light, no stars and no moon. They had to be in complete darkness.

"The others should arrive soon," he said softly.

The wind began to stir quietly around them, and the swirling mist was thinning.

" _Pssst,"_ Bill started. "I'm going for a piss, watch my back." He retreated off into a crumbled old cottage.

"Oh thanks for that piece of information," Emmeline hissed after him, with a sour look on her face. She sat down on a boulder and stared ahead.

"Don't trip over anything," James whispered.

It was rather cold, and frost was starting to appear on the long grass around them.

"Hey James," Emmeline whispered. "I feel like I'm being watched? Do you?"

The hairs on the back of his neck were suddenly standing. He shook his head, but nonetheless he scanned the dark horizon around him and gripped his wand tighter. He heard nothing except for the grass moving in the breeze and an owl hooting in the abandoned cottage.

"Do you know why Dumbledore didn't tell us who the rest of our party was?" Emmeline asked.

"No… but he was rather hesitant telling about the minutest details."

Abruptly, there were several pops and cracks. Startled, James jumped a foot into the air. He looked around, wand high and ready to fight.

"It's alright, James, it's only us," squeaked Flitwick.

He inhaled deeply, though as protocol dictates, he shook Flitwick's hand and whispered him a question. "What's your favourite charm?"

Flitwick beamed. "Wingardium Leviosa of course."

James gazed at the nervous, excited faces of the Order members.

Hagrid fumbled forward, holding his pink umbrella. There were a few new faces too, including a French couple and their daughter. The women of that family looked like they had a bit of veela in them. He had to shake his head of all lusty thoughts.

Then he spotted someone he thought he'd never see again.

He hadn't seen her for ten years or so, and she hadn't changed much, except, there was a lot of silver in her ash blonde hair. She saw him too and almost smiled, then hesitantly, she walked forward.

"Hello James," she said. The lovely diamond necklace and earrings she wore accented perfectly with her cool grey eyes. Beneath her travelling cloak she wore a lavender silk dress that was tightly fitted, with a silver snake brooch gathering up the pleats at her waist.

"I didn't expect to see you here ever again, Imogen."

"I'm surprised as well, but Delbert wanted to come out of hiding. He had the inspiration to fight now he's seeing some progress. I couldn't stay in Norway alone, with only the house elves to keep me company."

"How are your children?""

"Mark and Desmond are in the Order now. Hugh is currently in Durmstrang. Delbert thinks that school will straighten him out. He thinks Beauxbatons is filled with nancy boys and too much ponce."

James didn't want to know what else Delbert thought. That man just didn't know when to shut up. He reminded James bitterly of his brother-in-law.

"How is your family? I heard everything that's happened. I am so sorry for your loss." She almost touched his hand, but refrained. "I wanted to send you a letter, but after all that's happened, I didn't think it was a wise thing to do…"

James nodded. "Yeah… But thanks for saying it now." There was an awkward silence, and Imogen looked back over her shoulder as though frightened to be caught with James.

"Are you… er… staying at HQ?"

Imogen shook her head. "No, we are staying at Delbert's Muggle Aunt's manor house in Dundee… until we find other suitable arrangements. I told him, we're putting Aunt Margaret in danger, but he never listens to me." She shrugged. "In a way I'm glad we'e not in HQ. If your wife sees me—"

"Yeah, we mustn't go down that road—"

"—Even though we're only friends now, Lily would curse me into oblivion—"

"Exactly!"

"Imogen, come here." A lean man with a thin long nose and grey balding hair waved her over.

"I must get back to Delbert. Can't keep him waiting." She half smiled. Though there was no warmth in it.

James had always known her relationship with Delbert was not a happy one. But thinking back, it had almost destroyed his family as well. What little joy and surprise he had seeing her again vanished.

"I'll, er… speak to you later."

She tensed, a deep furrow appearing on her brow. "I don't think Lily will appreciate that. Besides, it'll make Delbert suspicious."

James knew she was scared, very scared.

_"If you're so unhappy why don't you leave him? Take the kids and go."_

_Imogen shook her head. "It's not that easy, James. Delbert will track me down and kill me. His sons are everything to him. And if I tell him I want to leave, he'll take everything away from me: my children, and my reputation. Besides, he'll leave me with no money—with nothing but rags."_

_"You like your wealth too much."_

_"Do you think I married him for love?" she scoffed. "I wanted so much more in life, and Delbert was the price for it."_

James watched her walk back to her husband's side, and saw the grip he suddenly took on her arm as he introduced her to the veela woman and her daughter.

There was no love between them. It had been a moment of heat, passion and excitement.

They had met in the Order and things progressed from there. She wanted friendship, passion, an escape route, and James wanted a bit of fun. Stupid, stupid fun. It ended up being one of the worst things he had ever done.

Ten years ago, James realised he wasn't Prongs anymore. Gone were the adventures with the Marauders, the sense of companionship, of fun, humour and a reason to live. He was a family man with four young children, all gripping him with their tiny, dirty fingers for his attention. The nappy changes, the tantrums, the fussy eaters and a frazzled wife who was more interested in trying to hold the house together with routine, and a sense of happiness against the darkness of the world.

James hated what his life had become then, but when he met Imogen, the rich sad wife of Delbert Castlewright or as Imogen liked to say, the property of Delbert Castlewright.

When she entered the Order meeting for the first time, it was like a breath of fresh air. For the first time in a long time, James felt like Prongs again.

He couldn't lie to himself; he had done some very stupid things as a young man. Things he wasn't proud of: bullying Snape, putting his friends in danger, his arrogance. However, looking back, his time with Imogen has been a very bad mistake. The betrayal in Lily's eyes when she found out stabbed his heart into pieces. They should've remained friends, but it went further.

He was selfish, arrogant and an abysmal male and to top it off, he let his sons down.

No, he couldn't go down that road again. Too much has happened since, and his priorities were with his family now. Prongs was dead the moment he held his tiny son, Harry in his arms. The moment that child looked up with his bright eyes, and James told him, he'd protect him from all the evil in the world, was the moment he grew up. Prongs was nothing but a memory.

"James," Bill slapped him on the shoulder, snapping him out of his thoughts. "I've been trying to speak with you for the last minute." He looked amused.

"Sorry mate, what's happening?"

"I was just saying to Emmeline, it's the first time in years we have a glimpse of the night sky without the mist." He pointed upwards and everyone else was _oohing_ and _ahhing._

The stars twinkled, and the lack of light from Muggle infrastructure, meant that the stars were brighter and more beautiful than he'd ever seen before. He could see the swirls of the galaxy above, and a shooting star zoomed overhead.

"Shame the mist is coming in again," Emmeline growled in disappointment. She looked at her brilliant violet watch with gold hands. "We're due to collect the eggs in a minute."

There was the occasional whisper, but mainly they all waited in silence.

Then they all saw them; tiny flickers of light that slowly grew, into tremendous golden balls. It lit up the landscape as though the sun had come up to play. As the light dimmed, pockets of tightly bunched Aurors touching Portkeys materialised all around them.

James counted the groups and realised that the numbers didn't quite add up.

"Hang on," he said, "this doesn't look right. There's over a hundred Aurors here. Shouldn't there be nine hundred or so—?"

One of the Aurors, dusting herself off, approached. She was a tall, lean black woman with a dark pixie haircut, and sharp brown eyes.

"'Ello, you must be James Potter."

"And you must be Commander Jehanne Larue."

She shook his hand with an iron grip. "I am, and dis iz half of my French Battalion," she said waving her hand behind, without looking away from him.

The Aurors behind her did not move, nor did not speak, yet they were not looking at the Order. Instead their eyes were trained on the landscape.

"We are very pleased to meet you, but I was under the impression we were meeting _all_ the Aurors today."

Her eyebrows flicked up. "You did not know?"

"Know what?" Bill spoke. The Order members looked at each other in confusion.

"ILS SONT ICI!" an Auror yelled.

Suddenly all the Aurors pointed their wands into the quiet landscape.

It took a second for James to realise who the real enemy was as Death Eaters Disillusioned themselves, revealing their skull masks and hooded cloaks. They surrounded them in a wide circle.

Emmeline had been right, they had been watched. In fact James and everyone had been waiting in the middle of a planned ambush.

He barely had the time to think as the first curse fizzled past their heads, exploding the little abandoned house. A shower of timber and tiles fell onto their heads. James felt the shrapnel cutting his head as he fell to the ground.

"JAMES!" Bill yelled, slashing his wand at a Death Eater, who had lunged at Flitwick. "Tell Jehanne—"

A spell hit Bill between his shoulder blades. He fell into the grass. James was about to run to him when a Death Eater Apparated in front of him.

"Avada—"

_"Incendio,"_ he retaliated. The Death Eater's wand exploded in green flames. And with a simple wand flick, catching the stunned moment on the Death Eater's face, James hit him with a Petrifying Curse.

"HELP!" Emmeline bolted past, her cloak in flames.

"Aquamenti!" the veela-like young woman to his right, yelled. A ball of water hit Emmeline's back, putting out the fire and sending splashes of water through the air.

James whirled around. He needed to find the Head Auror and tell her where she and the group must go. But he wasn't sure if even Order HQ had been infiltrated by Death Eaters.

He jumped over a dead Death Eater and helped Imogen out of a tricky spot when a Death Eater, sounding suspiciously like one of the Carrow's, tried to kill her.

There were screams around them. Curses and defence spells whizzed past, some hitting their targets. James's adrenalin was pumping through him, in dread, fear and excitement. Oh how he wished Sirius was with him by his side.

"Oi, Potter!"

He turned around and saw a masked Death Eater slash his wand, firing a blue hex at him. But James ducked in time, rolled on the grass and stupefied the wizard.

Then Hagrid appeared, trying to swing off a Death Eater that had wrapped his arms around his neck.

"Yeh little—" Hagrid swung around violently. The Death Eater screamed as he was catapulted into the air.

"HA, good one!" James said, his alertness lapsing. Then something hit his face and he felt a whoosh of air as he hit the ground hard.

His ear was ringing as Hagrid grabbed the Death Eater who had cursed James. James pulled himself up, in time to see the half-giant throw the wizard in the same direction as the last one.

He couldn't feel pain yet. His face was completely numb, but he could taste the blood in his mouth. Hagrid pulled him up. Unsteady on his feet, James knew time was of an essence now. He could not afford to be injured like this. He needed to see and think straight, and be able to stand upright.

"Yeh right?" Hagrid yelled.

"Yes," he yelled back, sputtering Hagrid with blood.

"Yer gotta' let the Frenchies know—"

"I KNOW! I KNOW!" James yelled, pressing his ringing ear with one hand while cursing a Death Eater trying to kill an Auror with his other.

He staggered around for a minute, falling again, and then deciding to crawl in the grass for awhile. Wizards and witches tripped over him, and James didn't know whether they were Aurors or Death Eaters. He passed the dead and injured. He hoped by crawling he could regain his senses.

He needed to tell the Aurors where to go. He sat down, panting.

"Expecto Patronum," he whispered, thinking of his favourite Patronus memory: the moment Harry was three years old and caught his first Snitch in a backyard game of Quidditch. He could hear his little boy giggling.

_"I think you really do have a famous Quidditch player in the making, James!" Sirius said, amazed. "That wasn't a toy Snitch either."_

_"He didn't catch it, Sirius…" James grinned. "He almost swallowed it."_

_Sirius shrugged. "Eh… Three year olds eat anything..."_

The spell wasn't working. No, thought James, he mustn't think about Sirius.

_"Expecto Patronum!"_ he said again, this time more fiercely as he concentrated on a memory of Charlie asking him about becoming an Animagus.

A stag materialised in full form out of his wand and bowed its antlered head, its silvery ear perked towards James's lips.

_"Id enim auribus nostris tantum,"_ he commanded, thinking of only the Order members and the Aurors present. They must be the only ones for the Patronus to relay his message to. He added the obligatory silencing charm to make the message secure. "Remus Lupin's—Olswell Cottage—you know the rest." The stag nodded, and silently it galloped around, simply majestic and beautiful.

James finally stood up, swaying on the spot, but it was in time to see the first Aurors disappear, stopping Death Eaters in their tracks.

He turned as the Patronus whirled around, telling Flitwick and Bill where to go. The great thing about the Patronus was that once it was free, no spell could penetrate it, except for the Killing Curse. But James knew his Patronus would miss it.

He spotted Hagrid slumped against the remains of the house. James directed the Patronus to tell him where to go, when suddenly he was knocked to the ground again, and a familiar face swam above him.

"You! I've waited a long time for you, Potter," Greyback snarled, pinning James to the ground.

His clawed hands dug into James's forearms. Greyback's strength was monumental as he fought against him. The werewolf's yellow fangs dripped blood onto James's face and his breath smelt like rotting flesh.

James struggled to relinquish his pinned wand beneath his hip, as Greyback enclosed his fangs onto his neck.

"Wait!" he yelled. He had to buy time as he tried getting his wand. "What do you mean you've waited for me?"

"You're the one who got away. You let that worm get bitten for you," he panted. "And I've never given up scents." He sniffed him. "I thought your son would be enough, but no, he wasn't the same… it isn't the same as biting into the flesh of the scent. Oh the sweetness."

James succeeded getting his wand, and he stared into Greyback's yellow eyes, and into that monster soul of his.

"My son? What's he to you?"

Greyback laughed, teeth brushing James's neck. "He was a good little doggy… fought me for a bit, but he was delightful." He opened his mouth wide, about to plunge.

James twirled his wand, and Greyback's eyes widened as he gargled for breath, hands at his slashed throat. James kicked him off. "WHAT DID YOU DO TO HIM?" he screamed into Greyback's face.

But Greyback bared his teeth, knowing it was the end, and silently laughed. James jabbed his wand into Greyback's forehead, not caring that the werewolf's blood was staining his robes.

"You deserve worse than this!" he spat, thinking of all the children Greyback had killed, raped or maimed, for the murders of their parents, and for the horrors he has instilled into their lives.

"James!" Imogen called out.

Panting, anger flaring; Greyback's words punctured James as though his fangs had ripped him open. He shook his head when Imogen called out again. Greyback was taking a while to die, but he had to move on.

He rushed to her side and she was holding onto her unconscious husband's bloody wound. The uninured Death Eaters were fighting the remaining Aurors. He spotted the Head Auror.

"Mr Potter," Jehanne said, catching his eye. "Ve vill handle this now. Go."

"Just make sure that bastard Greyback is dead!" He focused on Imogen. "Come with us."

"No, I'll take him home," she said. Imogen pressed a hand on her husband's shoulder, his blood defiling her beautiful dress. "We will report to Dumbledore as soon as we're safe."

"All right, but go now." He watched them disappear.

The terror in her eyes never left him, as he too, Disapparated.

**Author's Note:**

> Please review.  
> Also this fic is on fanfiction.net for those of whom would like to read more chapters.


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